Well we finally got approval for the mortgage this morning. It was all a bit anticlimactic as these long anticipated victories tend to be. They had us jump through a few more hoops yesterday (sending us rushing about Adelaide finding this piece if paper and delivering it to that desk) but were most efficient in caling us at 9.30 this morning to let us know it was a done deal. We danced around the lounge room a bit shouting our triumph (I rather more hobbled than danced but it was triumphant nonetheless).
I am still a bit melancholy and woe I’m afraid. The pelvis is not improving dramatically despite the good rest and not pelvis straining I have been undertaking. I am thinking of organising a little widgety thing for the sidebar, a “state of the pelvis” widget. I don’t really know how to do it but I think Beefy does. I was thinking it could say things like “walking like an octagenarian” on a bad day and “frolicking gaily with not a care in the world” when the pelvis is trucking along nicely. I thought this would relieve me from having to excuse my perpetually bad mood and lack of inclination to blog. Also, if I am being a bit odd, you could just check the pelvis update and see that I felt like my pelvis had been smashed apart, as though someone had crushed me in a human size nutcracker, and you would know that the craziness was because of my pelvis and I wouldn’t have to mention it in every post.
Speaking of the not posting thing, I think I have some mild brain damage because I seem to remember that last time I took a short break I felt bad and worser and then it was hard to make myself blog again and then when I did I realised I wanted to sit at my computer and write ten blog posts a day and never, ever have a break again. I forgot that. Now I’ve remembered it. Go me.
And so, now that the house purchase is a sure thing, the list writing has begun. I am not an every day list writer. More of your once every so often, under special, important, list requiring circumstances list writer. I like lists. They make me feel organised and serene. I am not organised and serene. I have packed two boxes. Boxes of pictures and photo frames and prints so that we may repair the walls where they have been chipped or where small people have felt the need to create life-sized murals on the low quality white painted walls (by low quality I mean the paint wipes off if you try to clean it at all).
Pudding is telling everyone he meets that we are moving to a new house and all the while I can sense that he is internally having a complete meltdown. He is excited and thrilled by the prospect of his new room but he is also three and struggles to cope with the idea of change. He is refusing to cooperate at bedtime and is waking up and joining us by about 1am most nights. There is not point in trying to return him to his bed. He will not be dissuaded. Poor little possum. He went to bed very quietly tonight though so fingers crossed that when we actually move (in less than four weeks!!!) he will not be too traumatised.
Rhubarb and Poss hatched a devious plan to avoid telling their father that we were moving. He and his wife and daughter are going on a month long European holiday (presumably with all of the money he does not have available to pay child support *smack my own hand, naughty me for mentioning the grrrrrr*) and the children thought it would be hilarious for him to arrive home, call to have them for a visit and have to be told that they were in new house. I was less keen on the idea but I chose to avoid saying much as I hoped they would change their own minds and tell him themselves while they were there on the weekend. They did, thank goodness, but I can’t help feeling a little angry on their behalf that he doesn’t see the injustice of taking his other child (albeit a very young one) on this holiday whilst never having considered taking Rhubarb and Poss. It wouldn’t occur to him as they are not his responsibility (oops there I go again, sorry).
Here’s to swine flu for him, hey?