So, I recently discovered that I’ve been calling this NaBloPoMo, which is not correct. Apparently, that is something different. I mean, it’s the same thing but a thing being done by different people in charge. Or something. Whatever. My apologies if I offended anyone by my lack of knowing.
Work has been fine lately, a huge up from working with the behavior group, but I’ll be honest with you, I’m worn out! Those little guys sure need to be kept busy or chaos will run amok, hither and yon, and a bunch of other unpleasant stuff.
And someone will put a booger on someone else and there will be tears, and gagging, because I can’t stand boogers and for some reason kindergartners attract them.
I have kindergarten songs stuck in my head pretty much all the time. I don’t mind it, for the most part, but there are days when the only thing that will get “Penguins Attention!” out of my noggin is something catchy from Jethro Tull. Or Katy Perry, because when you’re desperate to NOT listen to your brain sing “Shake Your Sillies Out,” you’ll listen to just about anything to make it stop.
I cannot stand most of Sparks’
stuff, although I think they have one song I do actually like. I don’t recall
the name of it, but it’s pretty good. The rest of it makes me want to shriek.
It has been so lovely having Tam here, although the visit has been way too short in my opinion. However, since it appears that everything worked out well from Li’l Red’s end of things (like getting himself to school in the morning, which, when you’re 16, can be a challenge), then there is a good chance she will be able to pop in once a month or so, which would be lovely. Unless she makes me go through boxes of stuff, then maybe she should just stay at the beach. L I do not like going through boxes.
Which brings me to the next thing on my list: the thing that died in the garage. We were out there, rummaging through boxes, looking for embroidery stuff, when I noticed a foul smell coming from one section of said garage. Apparently something decided to invade my personal space and expire therein, thereby making the air smell dreadful. One more reason to hate cleaning: finding dead things.
I got a text from Most Minor Minion this evening. He has finally landed a job! Of course, he landed said job in a city 45 minutes from me, which means my nest is officially empty. Of children, but not their stuff. My garage, attic, upstairs bedroom, and other areas of my home still harbor their belongings.
But now that he’s working and will be moving, I can focus on getting this place ready for rent. It’s going to take me a couple years, and in the mean time, I may rent out a room (or two) to some college students. That will cover some expenses and allow me to upgrade a few things, like the wiring and plumbing, and the landscaping (since this place has never been ‘scaped). Once I have things under control, I can find a property manager, rent it out, and move to the beach to be with my love and our hatshop.
Which is how I really want things to be, and you know, I think we’re moving forward in that very direction.
And that, my friends, gives me a happy.