I have done some big things this week - things that make me want to run screaming in the other direction.
Things like ...
* Quitting my job - without another one to go to and without a single clue how things are going to get paid for after the first week of July.
* Looking for an attorney. I used to think people were so sophisticated growing up when they would say, "well, I had my attorney review it" or "I have to call my attorney." What it really means is people either are in, or anticipate being in, a whole lot of trouble.
* Trying to figure out how to best pack for our move across the fence. Yes, you read it right - it will be "Adieu, Hobbit Hole!" in 3 weeks. We are moving - to the duplex next door. It is a special kind of move - one that involves a special kind of packing - something I am not sure how to define yet.
* Contemplating killing a rodent. I swear I saw something scramble from one corner of the kitchen to underneath the refrigerator this morning. Himself thinks I am suffering the delusional after effects of seeing a giant (3") bug come waddling out from underneath the fridge Wednesday, upon which I promptly attacked it with the mop before scooping it up in a paper towel to dispose of it. It stung me. I about keeled over in panic (motherhood has done strange things to my sense of vulnerability). Anyway, back to the rodent (?). Himself thinks I am insane. I scrubbed the entire kitchen wearing my bathrobe and flip flops just to make sure I was hallucinating. Nothing shows signs of rodent(s). Said rodent cannot remain under the fridge indefinitely - and there just aren't that many places to hang out in the Hobbit Hole kitchen. But I swear I saw something scurry from the top of the electric radiator on the wall (that we don't use) under the fridge. I. Don't. Do. Rodents. Even pet ones. Snakes, bugs (within reason, preferably small and sans any body hair), bees, flies - even ants. But not rodents.
Oy. Pray for me.
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