My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 2... er 4... Weeks (Part II)

I think I left off on the epic Tuesday...

So, after receiving the frantic call from our builder, emailing my dad about my unbelievable situation, and doing some more research on Google that managed to calm me down enough about the mortgage situation to realize that we still had a ton of stuff to do that day. I told my husband that if there wasn't anything else he needed me there for I was going to head over to the apartment to start cleaning. This was at noon. The details are all a little fuzzy to me now, but basically I cleaned our apartment until it was shining for 5 hours. This included vacuuming Asian beetles out of our garden room which we never used except for storage, sticking my head in the oven Sylvia Plath style and inhaling oven cleaner fumes for about 30 minutes (unwillingly - although I was tempted to just lie down and give up at that point,) getting the stains and odor out of the carpet, and scrubbing virtually even little nick out of the floors... by myself. To be fair, my husband did pack the remaining couple of boxes of random crap and I think scrubbed the toilet and shower. That was it. Meanwhile, he was criticizing me for cleaning "so well" and kept telling me to stop because we were "running out of time." I knew this, but I also refused to be charged $15/mark on the floor or whatever other asinine fines they could have stuck to us. Despite having a killer headache from all the different cleaner fumes, dehydration, and stress. When I was finished that place was cleaner than when we moved in. I definitely never cleaned it that well while we lived there.

Lets just infer how furious I was about my solo cleaning job - that resulted in us not owing the apartment complex a dime. Because the inspector could tell "how well we took care of it while we lived there." Nothing like a little deodorizing carpet powder and some elbow grease to create great illusions of cleanliness. That was also incredibly justifying to me... because there were definitely things they could have charged us for. Take that husband! Ha! (He did...)

Well, after he finally returned home after the inspection - I high tailed it out of there to go check on the dogs since they'd been cooped up for about 6 hours - we had a bit of an argument... and ended up not leaving for our vacation because we desperately needed to rest. We also had not packed a thing. We called the hotel and arranged to pay for that night and check in the next morning/early afternoon. Well, that would have required us actually getting up early and getting on the road. I don't think we left until after noon between sleeping, packing, putting a dog gate in the car to protect our luggage. That took my husband about an hour and half to complete while I packed everything else.

We finally got on the road and the dogs settled in decently for the first couple of hours. However, we eventually had to stop. The first stop went fine and we were able to take them out for a brief walk. The second was not so great. We pulled off at some sketchy exit in south Georgia and pulled into a Days Inn with a gas station so he could get gas while I walked the dogs. Well, as soon as I had the dogs leashed and out of the car - which was no easy feat considering how long they'd been cooped up at this point - the lady of a certain cheap hotel owner stereotypical persuasion who worked at the hotel came out and told us that "This is private property and you have to leave. You cannot walk your dogs here. There is a visitor center [which was not evident to us...] down the street for walking dogs. This is private property, you have to leave."

You should have seen my face. I gave her the combination of "you have to be shitting me, what's your problem b*tch, and I'll cut you if you turn your back... go ahead and test me" look. I think I scared her. I think she told me it was private property again. I proceeded to try to get the dogs back in the car - while making sure to give them lots of love and attention and to let them lick me in the face just because I knew it bothered her so damn much. After all, dogs are to be eaten, not to ride in cars like humans! (Well, that's what I imagined going through her head from the look she was giving me anyway...) She also treated me like I was trash for having pets, which trust me did not help the situation. I really would have decked her after the couple of days I had had, but decided it was not worth the misdemeanor charge I'm sure she would have filed. While spending the rest of the day in some jail cell in south Georgia might be some people's idea of fun, it was not mine. So we went to the BP across the street, walked the dogs for about 20-25 minutes and went on our way. Somewhere in there we stopped at a McDonald's drive thru (big mistake with the dogs in the car.) They managed to mess up my order - I got a 3 piece chicken selects and they instead gave me this giant chicken ranch heart attack in a bite sandwich. I could barely eat it due to the pound of mayonnaise smothering the remains of some poor hormone injected super chicken breast. I couldn't exchange it though or we would have lost the dogs for sure. They also made my iced coffee so sweet I couldn't drink it. Suffice it to say, after my husband being discriminated at the McDonald's in Missouri earlier this summer, I'm done with good old Mickey D's for a few years... even if I do respect their business model.

Good news is that when we finally made it down to Amelia Island we had a nice 2 days. It rained a bit the first day which actually made it cool and cleared out the crowds which was fantastic. We had a nice sea food dinner too. The puppies loved the beach and made friends with a family staying at our hotel. They hate the ocean though - and most water not in their bowls. It completely freaks them out. (Thank God. It's one of the few tools in our arsenal that actually makes them behave.) The beach wasn't quite as fun as it should have been because we were so worried about the mortgage situation. We found out that the bank actually had been closed and that basically no one including the Feds had any idea what was going on, where our escrowed money was, or where we should send our payment. And, the contractor had made sure to threaten us with liens on our house that would result in foreclosure if we couldn't pay before we left. So as much as we tried to relax and enjoy ourselves, there was a cloud over our mini-vacation.

Well, we managed to get back to Atlanta without much of a hitch. Turns out Dublin, GA is the only reasonable stop south of Atlanta and north of Savannah. Good to know. I try to avoid roadside sketchiness as much as possible.

Well, that's about the end of the story for now.... The additional part that made this time period so awful was that we were put into a bad situation with our dogs. Turns out, litter mates - especially those of the same gender - should NEVER be kept together. We found this out after our once peaceful puppies entered attack mode against each other. There have been instances where I've walked into a room and thought I was entering Michael Vick's basement. They fight so badly when we're around... for attention, for dominance, and over toys. It has really complicated things. We've made some real progress with mitigating the aggression which is good or we would definitely have had to re-home one of them and couldn't find a home upon our first try at contacting family and friends. We also didn't want to return it to the adoption center because they obviously don't know what the hell they're doing even though we were given a recommendation so strong you would have thought this place deserved a Nobel Peace Prize for its work.

This is why I don't trust other people's recommendations and always do my own research. Not that I don't ever take them into consideration, but every time I simply follow someone else's advice it completely screws me over. I do love the puppies though and look forward to the training they're going to get this fall. They are sweet and it's nice to have company when my husband is traveling. I also think they're young enough that we should be able to train them and everything will be fine. They've actually gotten back to being able to take walks together which is so nice - and saves me about an hour every day! It just broke my heart when I thought we would have to give one up though because I really do love them... even when the urinate on my bed while I'm standing right next to them... or on the couch to assert dominance because I petted one instead of the other first. Actually, not those times. Or when they attack my giant stuffed Eeyore (which I've put up high and they jumped up and managed to get this morning anyway.) You don't mess with Eeyore. Which they learned after a strong talking to and shunning this morning. Apparently I still hold some power in my crazy household. Nothing like being a disenfranchised Alpha. Maybe there's a support group other there somewhere. Or maybe I'll win the lottery and can pay Cesar Milan to train them.

See, there's always a simple solution.

My Favorite Quote

So, I haven't double checked this quote with the original source, but I love it. We've been having some major issues with our dogs involving their lack of training and aggression towards each other. We've been doing lots of research to figure out how to solve our situation and came across this trainer called the Pooch Professor. I love her advice and she seems like my kind of person due to her attitude about training dogs. One's attitude toward training a dog heavily reflects their personal beliefs. I always thought it was insightful, but after now embarking upon it personally I realize it is far more than I had ever supposed. We've started to have some minor success thanks to some great advice from a friend of my husband's and as a result had our first night of uninterrupted sleep since we picked them up. Woo hoo! Life always seems much better after being well rested. The mandatory exercise that has accompanied my puppies also has me feeling better than I have in years. I may not appreciate getting up earlier in the morning, but I'd much rather spend 30 minutes walking my dog than sitting in traffic. It's amazing what a difference it has already made in my life. More on that later, along with the semi-conclusion of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad two weeks and my extended opinion on the "healthcare debate."

Here's the quote:
"Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in traditions simply because they have been handed down for many generations. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. But when, after observation and analysis, you find anything that agrees with reason, and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it."
~ The Buddha, in the Kalama Sutra

I think that just about sums up my opinion on the world, if you include Christianity in the mix. My basic world views are primarily influenced by empiricism and Christianity. Apparently, this is not such a popular view these days. Or so society and my husband tell me. I'm also guessing that Buddha also would not approve of my approach since it includes some non-rational elements. The perpetual conundrum that is my life - no box applies.

My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 2 Weeks (Part I)

I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day... I think I'll move to Australia. - Alexander

One of my favorite books in the world is Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Probably because Alexander's day resembles my entire life... on a good day as shown from the opening passage listed above.

To begin on a bright note, I am still very much alive and kicking... er screaming inside from the asininity that has engulfed my life. This is good, considering that there was one day last week when I actually refused to drive home for fear of my imminent demise from a mack truck plowing into me at 60 mph while I was stopped correctly at a red light. It was just that kind of day.

The fated 2 weeks began with my husband running errands after work on Monday briefly returning home to put some groceries in the refrigerator and then loading up the car with boxes for another trip to the new house (we hired movers, but my husband insisted that the 45 trips we took in my car saved us time and money because "movers always rip people off." Lets just say that led to a strong series of arguments, but that's later in the story.) Back to two Mondays ago: After being inside the house for about an hour packing stuff up, we began taking boxes out to the car. I was loading mine in on the passenger side while my husband was standing there staring. This is one of my biggest pet peeves - people standing still, staring. So, I was like "Is there a problem?" He didn't answer, just gave me a look. I was like "Oh sh*t, did someone hit my car?" Thinking that that could not be possible considering that in only 3 nights we would be permanently residing in our new house with assigned parking spots. He very slowly said "Yeah, I think so."

"WHAT?!?!?!"

You probably could have heard me scream in Alabama.

I exhibited my full range of curse words right there in the parking lot... including some lovelies my husband reminded me of from South Park the movie. That does make me smile. It's not often you can use "Barbara Streisand" to signify a word worse than other select 4-lettered ones. All of which were screamed at my mostly innocent neighbors sitting inside trying to enjoy the Bachelorette finale in peace. I'm just guessing... but they all seem like the people who would watch that show... completely seriously, without having any clue as to why that show is nothing but ironically hysterical. Alas.

It took me a few days, but I slowly got over the hit and run since it was "only cosmetic damage." To my BRAND NEW CAR. But anyway, enough yelling at the Internet. I'm over it as much as I ever will considering I can hold a grudge for years. I'm the kind of person who if I believed in reincarnation would actually probably take that grudge with me until I eventually received my karmic appointment as a dung beetle and had such a small brain than I could not longer remember the previous offense of my very distant human life.

That's when my computer decided to just stop working. And lose most of my work from Monday. And other random files I'm not even cognizant of because I haven't needed them yet. That's the great thing about that little present... it keeps on giving! Every time I need a different file created more than 2 weeks ago it's a complete craps shoot as to whether it will in fact be on my computer or on my new external hard drive. Except for the fact that if it is indeed on my external hard drive I probably couldn't even figure that out because my computer will not recognize the drivers of the external drive despite multiple installs and various cartwheels and sacrifices to the computer gods I made last week.

The computer has at least been operational, so I'll leave it alone for now. I know it hates me and will do everything in its power to destroy my professional life, buy hey. At least I'm on to its game now.

I spent several days messing with the computer and on day three I had a complete breakdown. Sobbing, hysterical fit actually. I fully believed that I no longer deserved to live due to a combination of my personal and professional uselessness and the universe's obvious attempt to smite me. However, on the up side, when I chided it to "go ahead and strike me with lightening you mother f-ing universe," it thankfully did not oblige. The episode lasted for about 2 hours, but really had me worn out the rest of the day. So, I got even further behind on packing which did not do anything to diminish my stress level.

Then Thursday came along with the movers who were, let me say it, AMAZING. The best movers, perhaps to ever have walked the planet. The angels of movers who completed the job on time and gently packed my furniture and got it up my incredibly narrow staircase without so much as a scratch on the wall. I wish I could say the same for the contractors...

This, while incredibly justifying to me personally, did nothing to ease my frustrations at the universe, or very tangibly at my husband for insisting that they couldn't take anything breakable or that we could lift ourselves. Out of 70 boxes, the movers only took 30 to give you an idea. That would explode primarily on Saturday though, so we're getting there, no worries!

Thursday evening was a bit crazed since half of our belongings were in the house and the others still in the apartment. The most frustrating thing was that I had to get up Friday morning and go work from my empty apartment because the washer and dryer were getting picked up from the rental company. I had left myself a desk chair, a step stool, and a 12 inch TV so I wouldn't kill myself sitting in that dirty, virtually empty apartment all day long. I was in a frantic state trying to get my laundry list of work completed before being off for the next week. I'm honestly not sure if I've ever worked that fast before, but it sure felt great to be done. Despite the fact that the appliance warehouse man was incredibly creepy... I couldn't tell if he wanted to hook up with me or come back later on and steal the rest of meager belongings remaining in the apartment. He actually asked me if there was anything I wanted to get rid of... I guess my 7 year old 12 inch TV holds more value than I realized.

After my marathon day, I then had to pack another car load to bring over to the new house. While my husband piddled around. He likes to do that, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it at the time. That was almost another marriage dissolver. It took me about 45 agonizingly hot minutes to load the car including cleaning up an over-flowing coke left in my car the night before. There's nothing like having sugary sludge all over your body whilst trying to load a car when it's 95 degrees outside, let me tell you!

I got home, and I think that's when the unloading... of pent-up emotional frustration - began. It might have been when we returned to the apartment later that night to "finish packing." I can't really remember at this point. That did not go well. At least for me. I had had it completely and was exhausted. I was not so nice to my husband about my feelings either. We got home and decided to sleep later than we had planned, resulting in us not getting to the Comcast store until about noon on Saturday. I felt sick that day, but was along for the ride because we were about to pick up our puppies. The line at the Comcast store was 3-4 hours - winding in through the store and outside for quite a ways, so we decided to screw Comcast for that day and go get our puppies.

Picking up the puppies actually went pretty well. Except you'll notice that I call them puppies. That is not in fact a term of endearment. They are much younger than we were told and their behaviors reflect this. We were told we were getting fully crate trained puppies with exemplary behavior who we would need to work with, but mostly only on advanced things like commands for "sit, heel, fetch, etc." Not the basic involving crate training, potting training, and socialization with other dogs. I love my puppies dearly and am still glad to have them, but pissed as hell at the organization we adopted them from for not being upfront with us. We don't have the time, energy, or money to devote to intensive training and now we're stuck with two dogs whose behavior problems alternate on a daily basis. I must say that they are genuinely very good with other people and especially good with young children. Thank God. They just hate other dogs with a passion. And one is fully crate trained, but the other is not. We're working on getting them into training, but as with every thing else in my life it will not be easy. They certainly do love me though. It's really hard to stay sad or in a bad mood when you have two beautiful puppies clamoring for your attention and showering you with kisses from the moment you walk in the door. So, in all, I'm still very glad we got them. They're just going to be much more of a challenge than I anticipated.

The first night we had them was pretty funny - we were originally going to leave them downstairs in their respective crates (more like kennels - they are wire.) Well, we turn off the lights and go upstairs only to hear barking. We go down, let them out, go back to bed. We do this again at 2am. Maybe before? I can't remember... it happened multiple times before we decided to bring them upstairs. They were scared and agitated by this point - new surroundings, sirens going off on the main road nearby, a thunderstorm, city noise. So, I took Zsa Zsa with me in bed (she cuddled all night long and was very good from that point) and my husband slept on the floor next to Eva's crate. Since she's legitimately crate trained, she actually feels safer being in there than out. Now they sleep in our room, but always in their respective crates.

Back to the drama... Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent cleaning and packing the old apartment. Monday, we went back to Comcast in the morning, stood in line for only an hour and dropped off our old equipment and picked up our new boxes. This went about as well as could be expected, although why it is so inordinately difficult to pass out boxes that are already paid for and entered into the computer I will never understand. I guess 1st grade reading and arithmetic levels are too much to ask these days. So, we were leaving and decided to get lunch at the CFA drive thru. Well, we ended up having an argument to end all arguments in my car sitting outside of Wal-Mart next to the Comcast store after getting our CFA. Very mean things were said. Voices were raised. Tears were shed. It was not good. I would typically say that that is the most upset I've been since I can remember, but then came Tuesday. It certainly cleared the air though, but certainly left me feeling pretty dejected. I've always heard that putting up wall paper with your spouse is almost certain to be a marriage breaker. I think moving for almost a month is worse. We did make amends though, but it still was awful at the time.

After the argument we were both pissed and drained, but life had to go on. And, we were supposed to be leaving for vacation Tuesday afternoon. Things were looking up despite the cleaning we had to do in the apartment still being ahead of us. We packed up more Monday night (my husband referred to packing/moving at this point as Purgatory. I also like to think of it as the wandering through woods scenes in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Painful, never ending, tedious, and generally anguishing for everyone involved.)

And then there was Tuesday.

Dear sweet baby Jesus, what a day. An epic day of sorts. I also forgot to mention that my husband had found a petrified frog in my car while he was unloading on the weekend. He said, "You see, your bad luck is now over!" I gave him a look like he was insane and said, "Now, why would that be the case?"

"Because I got the frog out. (Obviously.) It was a voodoo frog that was cursing you, but now I threw it away so the bad luck will leave you alone."

"Oh, I see. Thanks for that stellar logic. And for now making me think that out there I have some random enemy who has a scary little doll of my image and is sticking pins into me and then apparently making Popsicle stick houses and throwing them on top of me from about 40 feet up."

Turns out, unfortunately I was way more in tune with what was going on.

Tuesday starts out fairly adventureless. We get up. We walk the dogs. We eat some breakfast. Husband leaves to run to the store before the apartment, I finish getting ready and head over there only to see a missed call from the hubby. I call him to be greeted with, "We have a problem."

"Oh really, what kind of problem? I knew there was mold in that apartment..."

"No, I just talked to Stan [what I will be calling the contractor for the purposes of this blog.] He said that the Feds just raided Taylor, Bean, Whitaker (our mortgage lender) and are closing them down for TARP fraud."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"Okay, I'll meet you at the coffee shop so we can get online and figure this out. I just can't believe it. Wait... crap, I need to drive, there's a giant tree in the road in front of me!"

I kid you not, as I was hearing the abysmal news, I almost was taken out by a fucking tree. Thankfully, no one appeared to be hurt and I could just turn around and go back from whence I came. I then went to the coffee shop to read the headlines and inform my dad of my bad luck. Of all people in the world, there is no one who understands bad luck like him. I certainly wish this was not the case, but in times like this it's at least nice to have someone to commiserate with who genuinely understands.

Well, this is where the story gets complicated... and it's far from over, so I'll leave you with Part I for now.