So, we’re going on the “official walk through” today (I have no idea what that means, except my MIL realtor is taking us through the house). Then we’re off to talk to the bank. Guess things are moving right along, huh?
TheMan is fighting tooth and nail not to move here. He says “If we’re not moving to a farm then we’re not moving at all”. Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, buddy. ‘Cept for the fact that right now I’m in cahoots with your mother realtor and that makes me all powerful. Mwahahahha! Still, he pouts and mopes and tries to change my mind. I’m a terrible wife, aren’t I? I said “well, if we stay we’re getting a fence” and he says “no” then I say “well, looks like we’re moving then, huh?” and the fight was on. He’ll go down admirably, I’m sure, but he cannot defeat my own steely resolve (heh).
See, the thing is, I’ve already seen the kitchen, the fireplace, the yard, and the, the…fence. There’s really no going back from that, you know. Yes, I know the house is a very feminine shade of lavender and that his manliness is rebelling against that, but too bad, so sad. Luckily for the king of our castle the house can be painted (probably by me because my husband is so afraid of heights that he won’t climb the ladder to replace a lightbulb. No lie). That is, if I want it to be painted (I do, but I may torture my other half for the benefit of a few giggles). The fence, people, encompasses the entire acre of yard. The entire yard. Do you know how that lights my fire? No godsdamned cockeyed neighbors coming over and helping themselves to strawberries/raspberries/flower pots, killing my bushes, informing us that we need to weed our yard, and/or generally driving me to murder. How sweet is that? Honestly.
Still, he fights. I can understand how he wants to live out, but see we can’t afford that right now. And we can afford to move from this place. Does he not understand the compromise he needs to make? I think not. But he will give in eventually and all will be well. Anyway, we have to make an offer contingent on the sale of our current house, so he may get his wish afterall. We’ll see. That’s not keeping me from my happy dance, though.
P.S.
Why did my child just strip down to nothing and begin singing “I free, I free!”? Honestly, who taught her that?
P.P.S.
Yay! She finally did her business on the potty! This makes me muy happy.
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Mine will walk nekkid around the house, telling me she wants to “Pee in my potty chair” and proceed to pee on the floor. She hasn’t grasped the ‘urge’ being signal to sit on the pot. Dang. More scrubbing for me.
ah. the joy of potty training. that’s why they make grandmothers.
oh, and you know you’re the one who taught her how to show what she’s working with!
wow, good luck with the moving woes. I’m sure eventually he’ll figure out that it will be easier for him to just go along with whatever you say.