The rental
I recently realized that I haven't really said anything about the rental house we are staying in while our house project is underway. I guess part of this is due to the fact that there are not enough words in the English language to describe it... but I will try.
The house is a little two-bedroom one-bath rambler on a very large lot. The first thing we learned when we moved in last January is that the house lacks any insulation. You can feel cold air coming up from the floor, thru the cracks around the doors and from the ceiling. With heater full blast, a kid, two adults, two cats, a dog, down comforter, and three sleeping bags we all still had to put on two layers of clothes to survive the night in our bed. Typical temperature in the house during winter sits at about 60 degrees, with all heaters running. This brings us to the summer. Typical temperature in the house sits around 85 degrees, lovely really.
The kitchen is small and without a dishwasher. This could be dealt with easily if the sink would ever stay unclogged long enough for us to wash the dishes. I suppose I am being picky, but running water in the kitchen really is a luxury I do not want to live without.
The bathroom is small and smells funny. Not sure if this is a creation of a four year old boy that has issues with aiming... or perhaps the fact that the toilet clogs if you look at it funny. Again, the whole running water thing, perhaps I'm just spoiled.
There are two extremely small closets in the whole house, one in our room and one in Dudes room. There are no other storage areas. This leaves a lot of things with out a place, like the forty thousand rolls of toilet paper you buy in a Costco pack. So you can only imagine where I have to try and store things.
The house sits on a double fenced lot. Hoover loves the ability to run all over and get as muddy as possible before she comes in, which is never a problem due to the fact that the kitchen sink seems to drain directly into the yard. Water, food, soap, anything you attempt to put down the drain. We found this out after Hoover spent an hour eating crap that had drained into the yard. She finally came inside to puked all over the house. But only on the carpet, she of course avoided the tile; she hates that vomit splash back. No worries however, the carpet is already the color of puke.
Our direct neighbors seem to be really nice, and actually like the fact that we have an extremely on edge dog. Her barking, pacing, and overall distrust of the neighborhood helps scare away some of the colorful sort that hang around the ghetto that we currently call home. We are a block off of a major street where there is a gas station and a very large self-storage facility that is painted purple. The gas station has an area where people sit drinking their forties. When they are done drinking their malt liquor, they then walk along side the purple self-storage facility to score some crack. If they choose to surpass the crack, they can walk behind the purple building and find a nice working girl to spend some quality minutes with. Now, these aren't just any working girls... these are the lovely toothless, looking 25 years older than their age, skanky working girls.
On my last walk to the grocery store, I counted 5 condom wrappers and 2 pairs of dirty panties. I understand the condom wrappers... the panties? Don't really want to know. So I no longer walk to the store, at least not with Dude... four year olds like to pick stuff up, and I really don't want to deal with that. There has only been one time that we saw an actual human just laying on the side of the road. As we pulled by in our car trying to assess whether or not we needed to call 911, there was another person standing by, poking him to assure he was breathing. Apparently he was just sleeping something off... malt liquor, crack, a working girl, whatever the case may be.
The good news... our car has only been broken into once, and we should be out of here before the end of the year. I am ready to leave this neighborhood, as colorful as it is.
Cafeteria Mishap
I was trying to get some ranch dressing out of a plastic bottle. Standing at the salad bar line I was squeezing and shaking the container when I was finally blessed with a huge squirt of ranch... all over the front of me. Actually, let me elaborate. All over my black sweater covered big belly, where it dripped down to my crotch and thigh. No problem. I turn to my right, smile at the man next to me, and say, "Wow, this doesn't look very good". Without really looking at me he responded with "At least you aren't wearing white". With that I replied, "I think white may be a little more inconspicuous". He finally looked up to see the creamy white substance all over my pregnant belly and crotch. "Oh my god, that doesn't look very good at all!" he says while laughing. Now that was the reaction I was looking for.
Spring cleaning, early nesting, call it what you'd like
I am not sure what has come over me, but I have gotten into a cleaning mode at work. Now the main problem with this is... it's at work. By the time I finish my day of manic cleansing I am too beat to do any of it at home. Now I just need to figure out how to focus this energy towards the evening time. Seriously, I have organized and labeled the autopsy room well enough now; anyone could come in and do my job. Well, maybe not.