Okay, I disappeared again, but this time I have a better excuse.
Yes, we're saying goodbye to Ugly Suburban Townhouse and moving to a lovely detached house in a quaint little town we now refer to as the Nice Village. Why? It was what Autumn called it the first time we went to look at the house. "Wow you guys,"--do other kids call their parents "you guys"?--"this is a really nice village!"
We thought so too, and decided to rent the house as soon as we finished the walk-through. It's a clean, sunny two-story with a finished basement, a fireplace and a gigantic yard in a sweet, quiet neighborhood. Yesterday we picked up the keys. Our lease here isn't up until the end of the year so for a while we'll have two places, but that just gives us plenty of time to pack, move, organize and clean. Stress free moving. I dig that.
And as if a new house wasn't enough of a change, Adam's mom will be coming with us! For various reasons we decided that it would be best if she moved in with us, at least for a few years, to make life a little easier for everybody. It's going to be a big adjustment (and probably not an easy one) but I'm hoping we can make it work. Don't get me wrong--Michele is great and I love her. We're just very different people. It will take some adapting on everyone's part. But I really don't mind his mother moving in with us as much as I mind this...
Seamus, a.k.a. Satan's Lap Dog, a.k.a. the bane of my existence. I love animals, I really do, so when I say I hate a dog you know it's bad. This dog is pure EVIL. If he hasn't chewed up everything I own by this time next year it will be a miracle. He eats EVERYTHING, and I mean everything. Nothing is safe from his deceptively mighty jaws.
One thing he loves to nibble on is feet. Everyone thinks it's cute. He'll playfully lick everyone else's feet, but if I am in the room he comes straight to me and CHOMPS DOWN on my toes like they're kibble. He especially loves to do this when I'm sitting at the table and trying to enjoy my dinner. Michele seems to think it's because he likes me, but I think it's because he has a personal vendetta against me and he's hoping if he gnaws hard enough I'll slowly bleed to death. Can dogs sense when you don't like them? That must be it. I don't fawn over his sickening cuteness like the rest of the family, and therefore I must bow down or be eliminated.
Dealing with him when we visited Adam's mom was bad enough, but now we'll be sharing a home. Hopefully I'll at least find relief by hiding in my no-demon-possessed-dogs-allowed craft room. I may have to wear my boots at all times to keep my toes from being turned into hamburger meat. Wish me luck.