I am officially nuts. Certifiably, unconditionally, CRAZY! It's official people. I am not fucking around. Have I said this before? Am I repeating myself? Probably.
(Just a reminder, I have three dogs that are mostly inside. I let them out throughout the day, to go to the bathroom, let out energy, whatever. I have to do it personally, because Mazzy, my wolf/dog, jumps the fence if I am not there to tell her "no", or to just give her the "stink eye" whenever I see her even thinking about going over the fence. This only works for me. For some reason when my husband goes out with the dogs, she jumps every time. Not the Dogfather.)
With that said; tomorrow morning at 9:30 I have a contractor coming with three of his crew people, to demolish, and completely redo my bathroom. They are going to be completely tearing down the exterior wall of the bathroom so they are able to get the shower out of my house, since the interior door to the bathroom is half the size of the shower itself. In order for them to do this, I have to open up my back yard so they can get the debris out. Debris out = Dogs get out. Shit. So I have to figure out a way to dog wrangle. Keep the dogs from eating the workers, or just (more likely) tripping them, and surviving sane, while I get a new bathroom.
Tomorrow is Monday. Wednesday morning at the butt crack of dawn, I will be driving my hubby two hours away to the airport to got to the wedding of his brother in South Carolina. I'm still not quite sure what I will be doing with the dogs, possibly taking them with (shudder), but I'll worry about that later.
In the mean time, here is where some of the craziness comes in. At the same time the contractor will be here, and the hubby not here to say nay, I will be going through the house (his stuff, and a minute amount of mine), to have a yard sale!!!!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!
For those of you readers who have never been to my house, or do not know the pack rat history of my husband, I live in a house that is approximately 1000 sq. feet. My hubby has maybe...um...200 t-shirts. He still has his prom photos, Letterman jacket, elementary school homework with the little gold stars on them (his own), circa 1975 Time Life Books of America, etc; I think you get the picture.
I have to admit that I have a little bit of junk myself, but I also must say that I am going to be willingly getting rid of about 95% of it next weekend. I am so excited. I'm fat. I don't fit into any more of my clothes anyway, so what the hell, right?
A little secret......the other night I was burning some stuff in the burn barrel in the backyard, and I burned a dresser ( I threw it on the ground a few times with satisfaction, to break it up), a bunch of papers and (gasp) pictures. Normally I recycle paper, but I wasn't sure what chemicals were in the paper of the pictures that I found we had duplicates from, so I decided to burn them and have it float into the atmosphere instead. Being green isn't easy all the time, ya know? Sue me. But, God, it felt good.
So anyway. I am going to try not to go crazy while I accomplish my goals for the week and this is how I will do it. Or try.
- Get up massively early to meet the workers on Monday, fill their pockets with treats/and/or bacon so they can become super good friends with 280 lbs of dogs.
- Take my Prozac. Maybe two.
- Breathing exercises. Hyperventilating does not count.
- After wrangling the dogs temporarily, safely remove my strawberry plants and Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade) to a different location (never know when you rmight need a little helper) so the hopefully, super hot, Carhartt wearing workers wont trample it.
- Is it noon yet? One glass of wine. Maybe two.
- Hubby should be up by now. See ya, I'm going to the gym to shower, bye.
