So, about that move. You know, that one that is supposed to be happening in about six weeks? The one about which we have no details. Still.
Mhhhhhmmmmmm. That one. The one that makes me want to punch people in the kisser. Hard.
I still don't know anything. And that sucks. It's like, hey, here's this really crazy, disruptive event that is going to happen in your life, and guess what? We're going to leave it a surprise until the very last second, because we know how you like to keep things exciting and stuff.
You know, you don't need to know what's going to happen in your life anyway! You can just not take your holiday! You can just cancel your dream-of-a-lifetime trip to NYC! And Blogher 2012, you didn't want to go anyway. I know you bought the tickets and stuff already, but meh. You're totally over it. And important things like, you know, your cats, and future potential baby number two, current real life baby number one, furniture and possessions, moving companies and containers traveling across the pacific and where we're going to live and the all important question of whether or not to pack away mid-weight sweaters? Whatever! You don't need to know! Only we need to know. Because we are the Powers That Be. And we have all the power.
I know that there are worse things in life. And I do feel like a pack of whinging jackanapes complaining. But still. COME ONE. Six weeks and no idea what's happening in my life? I think that deserves a swift kick to the blackberry.
And, anyway, I'm not sure if my waistline can withstand many more glasses of anti-anxiety wine / stress chocolate in my face hole, nor do I have faith that my husband will tolerate much more of my rage shopping.