I figured out why I’ve been having nightmares about tornadoes. Apparently they are linked to great stress about upcoming events in your life, at least, that is one of the many theories that happens to suit my situation.

Andy got a new job a few months ago that has posed challenging, to say the least. On the upside, we have awesome health insurance and he has a steady paycheck. And he doesn’t come home telling me horror stories about the houses of people’s carpet he used to clean. It’s the kind of stuff that puts you off dinner, usually told right before dinner. Awesome.

So on the upswing, yay new job! The downside is that his job requires us to move if we all want to stay together. And that means we need to figure out what to do with the house, among many other important things.

And this is where Andy and I have a vast difference of opinion. I refuse to lose the house. I refuse to rent it to someone I don’t know. To me, these are not viable options. We bought this house because we love it. For our kidlets, for our future. I’m not saying the house is more important than being together, than our marriage, than him being able to see our spawn mutate into grown human beings. But it’s important and I’m not willing to just let any crazy person live in it. Or heaven forbid, get rid of it. No one will be buying anyway. Not unless we sink some money into fixing up the bathroom (our next project).

So.

My brain.

It’s been batted around like a ball of yarn by a cat hyped up on catnip or kittyacid or whatever the hell it is that gives Sunny the compulsion to spend hours vaulting over the baby gate between the kitchen and dining room. Cat, what is wrong with you? Maybe if you’d stop trying to eat my aloe vera plant! At least it’s amusing to know that I’m not the only one going crazy.

I’m still working part time since the company is slowing down due to RECESSION. That is mildly depressing. I miss my full paychecks.

I’m also concerned about my car. I talked to a few different people which meant I got the rare slice of good advice and then the overwhelming amount of NOT GOOD ADVICE that is inevitable when you mention finances to other people. You do not manage my checkbook, I do. I know what we can afford. And a new car payment over $200 is NOT it. Over $150 is iffy, if I’m being perfectly honest. Because I hate eating Ramen Noodles. I refuse.

You want to know something aggravating? Try to discuss finances with your emotional husband via text message. No, go ahead. I even have a qwerty keyboard but that doesn’t help when you are mashing the buttons in rage because no one is listening to you.

I have done enough to prove to everyone that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to money. So friggin listen to me, is what I’m saying. Damn.

Also, blood residing in the veins of a close relative? STOP CLOTTING. You have been warned.

In related news, I have completed yet another set of wrist warmers. Because it’s the most productive way I’ve found to deal with those troublesome emotions, rage and fear.