Feeling Stabby?

Ever have one of those days when you are feeling stabby murderous cranky and would like to stab someone in the eye throttle them spend some time away from everyone? Yeah, me too. But not too worry folks. I have found an alternative to embarking on a murderous rampage help you feel better.

Of all things, I have found that making bread does that for me. I know, I know. It takes so long. But let me tell you, that 10 minutes of kneading the dough? Wow. I just imagine the face of the person I'm currently wanting to kill pissed at on my ball of dough and go to work. And I'm multitasking. All that kneading is surely good for toning my arms. So next time I'm pissed at someone and want to choke them I have nice strong arms I wear a sleeveless shirt, maybe I will be able to tell a difference.

And I get to knead the dough twice. So I get to smash thier face in imagine I'm actually doing something two times! Yippee for me! Then I get to bake it. That home made fresh baked bread smell? It's good for bargaining. Be nice or I will eat the whole damned loaf myself while you watch. And you won't get any. See all that warm ooey gooey butter melting off the slice of warm from the oven bread. Heh. You don't get any.

See how that works, Ass?  I feel better already.

Spare Tires

I am in the crush countdown for moving. I am still not packed. I still have shit to sort through. I still have more shit to get rid of. I am making progress. We took two van loads to my sister's basement last night. I will probably not take any loads over tonight. I plan on taking MM up to the bar tonight so he can meet my dad and pals. They have good food, and of course, alcohol. I like me some wine. Except they don't have wine. They do have Smirnoff though. I'll take that.

I have one room in my house completely emptied out, cleaned and closed off. I have another room that is emptied of everything not going with us. It is not cleaned and closed off because that is my bedroom. The bathroom is emptied of everything we don't need on a daily basis. I haven't even started on the kitchen, dining room, or two spare bedrooms. One spare bedroom was storage and that is going to the basement at my sister's house. The other one is the "junk" room. Everything got tossed in there until I could figure out what I wanted to do with it. Shit's all still there. But not for long. I will have to make sure we get home in time tonight to make a dent in the other upstairs spare room. I will probably load it all into the van. Or at least what fits. Then take it to my sister's house tomorrow night after work. Maybe another load as well.

I have a lot of tubs that have decorations in them for thanksgiving and christmas. I am not taking all of them because there is no place to store them. I plan on coming home on a regular basis, so each trip home I will load my van with the tubs for the next season to use in our house. Then I will rent a storage space somewhere down there to keep the stuff nearby for when we buy a house next year. That will without a doubt have a basement for me to store this shit these valuable items in. MM says I can't use the house for storage and that he doesn't want stuff everywhere. He's never seen what I can do with packing/storing. He needs to be prepared to be amazed. He'll figure it out soon enough. And I'll just smile. It's a girly thing, yo.

If I get the spare room emptied and cleaned, then all I have left is the first floor. Yippee.

My mom is starting to have a hard time with the move. She has been telling me for weeks that she is happy for me and wants what is best for me. This all seems like it is working out for the best. Yada, yada. Today, she tells me that she is having a problem with all of this. She is going to miss me. Well, obviously. What did she think was going to happen? I really think what she is going to miss is me coming over to clean the gutters since no one else in the family can climb up on the roof. They're a bunch of height-fearin-phobics. What's up with that? Heights themselves can't kill ya. Right? And she will miss my manual labor coming over to help her dig up and transplant her flowers when she can't do it by herself. Right Mom? You just know one of your slaves children is escaping? And that is hard to bear?