• I didn’t get the job. I didn’t even get an interview. Ouch. That one stung a bit. Okay, it hurt a lot more than I thought it would. I saw the email from the place I applied, and it was just a form letter. Aaaaand, they are still accepting applications. If I had balls, I’d be down on my knees cupping them. I was really excited about it, you know? I’ve hit a wall with work that requires ACTION GIRL! to jump in and get shit rolling. That’s what Misty calls me when I’m getting shit done. It makes me feel invincible. Right now I just feel supremely lame. Embarrassed. The worst part is I have to pick myself up and keep looking. That job was like, the dream job. With dream pay. It would have been winning the lottery. Now I look at what’s out there and just it all looks tarnished. And impossible. I don’t feel very good. Insecure. Like a faker. Like I don’t have chops at what I do. It’s a very demoralizing feeling. I’ve got that mean girl voice in my head telling to forget about it and just accept the glass ceiling. Even just typing this makes my face hot and my eyes prickle with tears. I’m taking deep breathes. I’d rather have a stiff drink. Or Misty’s arms (attached to the rest of her of course… my mind just did a weird morbid thing, as I read that back to myself).Life is fucking hard people.
I’m broke. My amazing cousin and his wife got me a ticket home to a family reunion for next week. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone, but I am feeling sick about missing work. And then there is the pressure to find other work. Reno update - my laundry floor is still a bloody disaster. But I’ve got some more tile coming to fix it. It will be done, and then I need to get the bathtub upstairs sorted out/purchased/plumbed before I can close up the walls and then learn how to dry wall. I’m cold and there are wolves after me… *said in my best Grampa Simpson voice*My house is a mess. I have laundry everywhere. No one currently has lice (thank you to every single god there is).My friend lost his job and I think it’s so fucking unfair. He didn’t deserve the absolute shitty way he was let go. I’m sending positive thoughts into the universe for him.Misty emailed me a picture of a minecraft creeper (if you have kids you know what I’m talking about) and just titled it “Pink Bow?” Thoughts went through my mind, rapid fire, as I processed the request. I knew it wasn’t because *s/he* wanted me to. Through a whole series of synapses, I deduced that this request was from his wife. Which I won’t lie, put a funny look on my face. I’m not worthy of acknowledgement , like saying “thank you”, but you can ask me to do something for you. Interesting. I quickly did it up and sent in back. When I later asked Misty about it, s/he laughed and said/confirmed it was indeed for his wife. I guess s/he sort of talked her into letting me do it. Saying that I care about her happiness factor. This is both true and not true. I don’t enjoy not being liked. I don’t like being treated like I am a bad person. It sucks. It doesn’t at jive with how I feel about myself, and I tend to flush that kind of crap as soon as it hits the bowl. She wants me to not be here. I get that. And there isn’t anything to be done about it. I don’t want to make her unhappy. Do no harm right? But am I going to go out of my way to kiss her ass? Beg her to like me? No. Call me a giant biatch. Since that text message that she didn’t respond to, the warm fuzzies of being good friends is feeling less fuzzy. Call it a shot in the face of reality. What I do care about a whole lot is his/her happiness! And you know what makes him happy? A happy wife. The irony of the above statement is not lost on me. It feels like an impossible logic sometimes, that ultimately feels like I have to exit stage left. Fuck it. I’m going to go eat a cookie.  
  • I love my time with him/her. SO FUCKING MUCH. Simply (and not so simply) I love her/him. Lice-apalooza came to a spectacular week end close with another round of only-use-after-7-days nuclear strength shampoo. Red wine vinegar, tea tree oil & shampoo and another home remedy in my back pocket should they have persevered before the 2nd nuking. Oh, and vacumming and laundry like that was my full time gig. I even put the vacuum thingie to my head. I’m not joking.And the nightmares about them, and the constant itching. FUCK. My dear friends, may you never know the nasty ass shit that is head lice. Seriously. 
After I discovered them last Sunday, cuddling my eldest and looking into his hair, I learned a lot about them. I learned that with the amount of them, and the life stages of them in my kids hair they had had them for at least 3 weeks. And they had only been home for just one. I am not above hoping that my ex is crawling with them. Especially how he handled my eldest’s call. One of the things that my oldest child brought to my attention about his charming father is his twitter blurb. It says something lame ass like “finally happy”, to which Thomas said to me - “Mumma, he’s happier without us. [kids]”. That man is such a fucking idiot. Honest to god. It saddens me that it hurts my kids, but I am so very glad to not be married to him anymore. Dear god, yes. 
So the week has kind of kicked my ass in terms of shit on the go - with the battling of personal livestock. And just trying to keep this boat on an even keel. Financially it’s been a hard week, and I am about to see all of my saving disappear for a new roof. I don’t want to spend it on that, I want a tummy tuck, but nooooooo, it’s got to be some unsexy shit that I have to pour that money into. I should be happy that I have it to put into the roof (which has been in need of replacement for a good year and a bit - since my Uncle Peter passed away). I have a house and the money to fix it. I really should stop whining. And run more. *pout* I wanna tummy tuck, goddamnit. ;) The roof comes tomorrow, weather permitting. And I need to paint and seel then new fascia. I need a clone. I laid the self leveling cement in my laundry room! Not without some major help/expertise from Misty. It is a crazy hard job - I had to use a grinder on the cement floor to get it clean enough to pour the new layer. I’m closer to a new floor though. Which is so much YAY, I can’t even tell you. With everything that has happen, I’m calling it the “Runaway Reno” (coined by a fb friend). One foot in front of the other.You know what made this week better? Him/her. The support and non-love love was the best. The icredible love I get from friends - a call, a facebook message/banter/like, email, tumblr note/message - the fucking best. I’m stupidly lucky.
Thank you. (giant, warm, lice free, hugs) 
  • It’s never easy. Or if it is, it’s not really the good stuff. 
Where did I leave off? It feels like it’s been forever since I wrote out what’s happening. I write posts in my head when I’m out there doing stuff. It’s been a hell of a week… and so much of this shit I can’t write about because Misty’s wife may or may not be reading this. In the image above, I should have put the blue (Misty’s) arm around the pink (wife) shoulders. He wants to include her, he loves her. He wants to do all these things we are doing with her. Anyway, that’s really not what this post is about.I started reno’ing my laundry room - I learned a whole bunch of plumbing and expanded on my electrical knowledge, by fishing wires, adding junction boxes. Even wiring 220 for my drier. Misty has been so amazing passing on her knowledge and expertise in these areas.  S/he did build her very own home (which is beautiful). But as I got the room ready 2 things happened. One, the tub in the bathroom above - I found out it is busted and leaking. Which just sucks, quite frankly. Because I can’t close up and drywall and continue on in the laundry room without replacing the main bathroom tub. Thank goodness my ensuit has a shower (we’ve all been using that). I have to put in a floor drain, level the cement and then put my flooring down. Drywall. Trim. Paint. Put in shelving.My peeps are back!! Back with my laundry room in a total, unexpected, state of chaos. But I managed to get it all in a state of functioning  - with the dryer in the crawl space (access to the 220 plug) and the washing machine in the shed hooked up with the garden hose so I can try and get the room done without having to worry about getting the machines in and hooked up immediately. 
And then my hot water tank blew. An unexpected expense. It’s been so wonderful to have them home, chaos included. I missed them so damn much. It was a wonderful week of getting back into the swing of things.On date night I learned how to cross ditch my all wheel drive and 4x4 into some crazy woods on the weekend. Another interesting night, that I am only going to say we did some crazy shit behind the wheel - including 69’ing with my legs over his shoulders, head in his/her lap while he drove for a bit. We laughed and moaned and laughed some more… it was wonderful. And dirty. We had a lot of time to talk Saturday night.  It made my emotions run the gambit. Sunday was a total fucking drag. It started great, I was cuddling Thomas when I noticed that his hair was crawling. I called everyone into the kitchen to inspect heads. Lice. All of my kids covered in them. I itch just thinking about it - and I’ve been in a constant state of itchy for 2 days. The state of their heads meant that they came home with them, since they had just been here a week. I’ve medicated their heads, oil and saran wrapped them for sleeping and had two red wine vinegar head baths, and picked and combed their heads until I thought all of us would go mental. The boys all got buzz cuts and I almost gave Georgia one. Depending on how the week goes, she may just get one. It’ll be the prison yard look for all of us. I’ve sprayed every surface in the house that I thought our heads may have been. It’s been full scale war. I’ve never had them before, and neither have the kids - I feel violated. And seriously squicked out. 
I called My ex to give him the heads up that the kids all had lice and he acted like I was accusing him. Which is ridiculous, shit happens. That said, I found out later that my oldest has told his Dad his head was itchy and his Dad told him not to be such a hypochondriac,and he was the reason WebMD exsists. Nice thing to say to a 10 year old. Anyway, after the call my ex pocket dialed us and my oldest answered. He heard my ex talking shit about me and say he didn’t care whether the kids had it. My son was crushed and so upset. And lice-a-palooza hadn’t even gotten started. My ex is a douche. I called him back and told him he pocket dialed us, and that Thomas heard everything he said. His response? To point out that the kids visited my family and they may have gotten it from there. Douchy. He hasn’t even called to talk to our oldest. Cowardly and douchy. Ugh. On the plus side I don’t ever have to live with that again, though I wish I could save my kids from it. And if that wasn’t enough from that corner, the kids told me that my ex told them that if the teachers union doesn’t come to some kind of resolution, he’ll take them to Ontario to be with him. 
*sigh*It’s been a hell of week.