It's been a long couple of weeks. And by long, I mean the kind of long you feel when you're watching a foreign movie and it really sucks, and the sound is off just ever so slightly from the lip-syncing, but enough to be really irritating, and you're just miserable but you have to sit through it because your boyfriend went with you to see "Valentine's Day" the weekend before. That kind of long. Lllllllllooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnng.
The good news is the move is done. The kid's rooms are mostly unpacked and they're taking to their new space. Which is good...since they don't have a choice. :)
Scott and I are also finally speaking again. It's so interesting how a little thing like asking a man to move your entire household (which contains loads of crap you never even look at and he knows it - and three young children - and all their crap they never look at) can make a guy crabby. And every last box, picture frame, and bit of crap you never looked at, is now in the new place - stacked up against freshly painted walls I hope to be able to see one day.
But we were done. Time to celebrate and move forward. All was good.
Or so we thought.
Then Mr. Leo passed away.
Throughout the move we'd been nursing him, holding him, tending relentlessly to his every piggy need. But despite our best efforts, he just never bounced back after his surgery. We used up a lot of tissues that night in our new house. Of course, I had to go buy tons of boxes because I had no idea where I had packed the ones from the old house.
The kids rebounded beautifully. They took his passing with such bravery and grace.
I, however, was somewhat less graceful. Sobbing a bit here and there, and then completely throwing out my back tossing his extra cage (the one we used to separate him from his sisters while he was sick) into the garage.
The next three days were spent in bed. On my back. Barely able to move. Peeing was a Herculean feat. Vicoden became my friend. I envied old people and their walkers, imagining how I would pimp mine out if only my boyfriend would let me get one.
Well now I'm better. Sitting in my favorite coffee shop (strapped into a HUGE back brace), and trying to catch up on all of the lost work of the past month.
Yeah. It's been a reeeeeeaaaaaaaally looooooong past few weeks. And I would like to say I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I would love to believe that the worst part of the year is behind us and we are all ready to emerge into the light and start enjoying the goodness of our newly paved lives.
But as shiny as that light is, as bright as it seems, as much as it glows and beckons...I can't help but wonder if it probably is just a flashing light on an ambulance.