Believe in the Flowers.

Carol of the Zombie Jesus!

So we found out today, after multiple failed attempts at finding alternate housing, that the house we were originally looking at renting-to-own was still actually open, both for purchase and rent. Husband and I had been discussing this at length (read: I was telling him he was wrong and he kept demanding something called "consideration") and eventually came to the conclusion that with summer coming up, I would likely bitch far too much for us to live in a park and be homeless. Also, I have a problem with things that buzz and sting, and chances are that in a park, I would encounter a lot of those.

So after a conversation about what we thought we were going to do to find someplace new to live (read: after deciding we were going to hope a miracle fell from the sky) we started to get back into the routine of calling the options in the classifieds and calling just about any house or apartment with a "for rent" sign in front of it. Up until today, we had gotten mostly negative responses - either the price was far out of our range, or was within our range but the apartment itself was actually a crackhouse previously inhabited by poo-flinging monkeys. Obviously this was a disappointment for us, so hearing that the house we were originally considering was still open was a good moment, even though we both knew that actually paying $500 a month (an increase of $150 that we don't have) for a rent-to-own property that we had already decided we didn't want to buy was, uh, implausable. Right, we'll say that. Still, our days are ticking by, and while we've begun the impossible task of actually THROWING THINGS AWAY (I should've asked if you were sitting down first), we haven't been doing much packing. Our constant worry has been whether or not we'll have someplace reliable and safe to live after June, and up until today it was up in the air. Today, we decided that we would give ourselves until this Friday - and if nothing better comes up, we will be calling our landlady and making the absolutely impossible transition of moving into an expensive, smaller house. Plus side: Husband is right, it feels like a weight that I didn't even know was there has been lifted from my shoulders. And it feels damn good.

Past that, my mother has her pulminary stress/functionality test tomorrow (I'm sure you can't tell that I have absolutely no idea exactly what it is she's doing) in the morning, and I still haven't called to let them know that I, uh, can't exactly come in to do my three-hour glucose test since I won't have anybody to watch The Kid for those three hours. I could be a complete slacker and walk there, do the test, wander around in between, and keep him in his stroller, but when we have no money and he hasn't had breakfast, I can't imagine him being happy about getting up and going at 8:30 in the morning when I am grouchy and CANNOT EAT. So I need to call first thing tomorrow and try to reschedule to Friday, which should be plausible as Husband shouldn't be working. Not that I really want to do the test as it is, but if it goes as well as it did last time, I shouldn't have anything to worry about. Ha, ha ha.

Also on tomorrow's list of things to do: pick up (again) so that tomorrow night we can meet the woman we're hoping will act as our doula for the birth of #2. She seems nice from emails, so we'll see if this holds true in a face-to-face meeting.

For now, that is all!

The remnants of a late-night snack are strewn about - water in a squeeze bottle for The Kid, Simply Grapefruit (straight from the container) for me, Mini Nilla Wafers for us both (or, as someone would say, "Cookie! Cookie!"). Now he's passed out on the floor directly to my left, in need of a second diaper within the last hour. I'm exhausted, although I'm just working off of my second wind, but have a certain distaste for sleep at the moment, knowing that at some point soon we're going to be deluged with bad weather. I'm hardly a fan of thunderstorms, and am even less so when there's the possibility of them being accompanied by anything more than rain. Husband is off at game night, hopefully having a good time, although I know I was none-too-subtle about my want for him to stay home tonight. I felt guilty about it, of course, and still do to an extent, although I'm a bit less so since tonight has been relatively easy (compared to other weekends). But today has been a somewhat difficult day physically, and I feel somewhat ill, am exhausted, and I generally don't feel all that great. The added knowledge of an impending thunderstorm (or group of thunderstorms) is overwhelming - top it off with the fact that there's a wasp stuck in our bedroom window and I think I've had about all I can take for one day. 

I was supposed to work tomorrow as well, but Husband has to work a sort of odd, in-between time that would keep me from working at all during the day. My only remedy for this is to attempt to reschedule, although I'm a little worried that I'll end up simply losing the extra money and not being able to work during the day at all. Thursday's three-hour glucose retest will have to be rescheduled, hopefully for Friday; in the morning, instead, my mother will undergo further pulminary testing, in the afternoon Husband will work, and in the evening we'll get to meet with our doula for the first time. 

Now, I believe it's time for a bit of clean up, to put away my juice, and to take this poor little boy to bed so I can change him. It isn't like there's anything to do online anymore, and seeing as how it's a Sunday night, there's certainly nothing interesting on TV. After that, time to move the fan into the bedroom and shut a couple of windows so I don't spend all night hearing the door in his room creak. Odd sounds affect me more than they probably ought to.

As of the last two days, I have officially failed my accepted "challenge" to blog once a day, every day, for 30 days straight. I suppose, considering all the things happening in our lives right now, it was a bit much for me to expect of myself. On the plus side, I have succeeded beyond Husband ("The ADD Muse Says ..."), who has not blogged since the 17th! Ha ha! I will consider this my small victory and run with it.

After I got over myself the other day, I suggested to Husband that we go out to dinner with the remainder of our limited funds. My mother watched The Kid while we went to a local restaurant we have only been to once before (on my birthday last year, ironically enough), and when we came home we re-watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno - not because it's a particularly family-friendly movie, but because it's absolutely adorable under all that crass humor and foul language. We picked The Kid up from my mom's house well after midnight, when we had finally finished watching the movie and half of the deleted scenes (which, for once, were deleted for a REASON; they all sucked) and realized that we were falling asleep. It reminds me of the ending of Shrek 3, where once they've finished dealing with their new little ogre babies and said kiddos are asleep, Shrek looks to Fiona and says something akin to, "So .. Now what should we do?" It's of course meant to be suggestive, meant to be a lot of things, but a split-second later the "camera" switches to an unexpected scene of the two sprawled on their bed, fully-clothed and passed out to the point of snoring. That is parenthood. THAT is accuracy. It wasn't a bad birthday at all, and I appreciated the alone time with Husband, even if all we did was watch a silly movie and try not to fall asleep.

Since then we've been continuing our struggle with housing and money. The latter appears in the form of well over $100 in back-rent owed to our current landlady, whom I have been carefully avoiding calling back for two days now because in all honesty, I've no excuse for it being late other than the fact that we are broke (trust me, what little we spent on dinner would not have made up for the money we owe her). In the business world, being broke is an excuse, not a reason, and it seems silly to put her through more trouble when we hope that my check this week will be enough to repay her the remainder of rent and leave us SOMETHING to work with for the rest of the week. I'm finding it more and more difficult to avoid putting away plain old cash, hiding it somewhere; mostly I'm avoiding it because I worry I'll lose the money, or that the container I put it in will be packed away and lost forever once I get back into the swing of packing. I'll admit, on that note, a good portion of my laziness with packing has been that it seems odd to want to pack up all of our belongings when we have nowhere to move to.

The former, to get back on track, has come to us in the form of a string of failed apartment listings. Out of the seven or so we contacted last week, two were houses (out of our price range), one was in our price range and big but had SO many problems that wouldn't be fixed that it wasn't even worth pretending we wanted it, and the rest were tiny apartments out of our price range, which is just plain silly if you think about it. Out options have gone back to being incredibly limited, and the paperwork to apply to live in a nearby 100 apartment complex is daunting to say the least. Some 12 pages of information to provide, a credit check (hah, yeah right), a waiting list, and even then, no guarantee that before June 16th (when our lease officially ends) we will be given an apartment. To say that I'm concerned about our housing situation would be a massive understatement.

The only other news I have to report is really only pertinent if you've kept up on my Twitter updates. I mentioned a while ago that my mother was having problems and was going home from work one day instead of being admitted to the hospital she works at. She has had breathing problems her entire life in the form of asthma, and smoked for quite some time off and on throughout her life. She has had severe breathing problems before, and this time ended up buying a nebulizer for home treatments. After two visits to her doctor, an MRI, an echocardiogram, blood work, and chest x-rays, along with an upcoming stress test for her heart, the general consensus is that her heart is enlarged because of her asthma, and she is likely suffering also from a condition that keeps one of the valves in a ventricle from "firing" in proper order. This combination of problems, while just as serious as any other heart issue, can be treated via medication and careful monitoring, and as long as she monitors her own health, it seems that this is something that will not immediately require surgery or other major invasive procedures. Of all of the answers that we could have been given to her problem (emphysema, lung cancer, multiple heart attacks, etc), this is perhaps the best-case scenario, because short-term treatment does not require surgery or other expensive and painful-recovery procedures to fix it. There is the unfortunate knowledge, though, that something will EVENTUALLY need to be done; of course, the verdict is still out on what, and when. She has been given detailed instructions on how to manage her medication, warning signs she should watch out for, and how often she should need to use her nebulizer during attacks and on "okay days" - more usages than what's considered within "safe" limits, and she needs to go back to the pulminologist immediately.

The only plus side I've seen so far is that next Thursday night we get to meet with my doula for the first time and find out if we're truly interested in having her along for what little is left of our journey into becoming parents a second time over. I wanted my sister-in-law here, but she has two kids of her own living with her constantly and lives 1600 miles away - if the scheduling wasn't a bit of a problem, the money would be (and is). Even this has a downside, though, as that's the day my mom is going to her pulminologist, and Husband rearranged his work schedule to make sure he'd be working during the day and not in the evening so he could meet our doula, too - and it turns out that Thursday is the day I was supposed to take my second three-hour gestational diabetes test. Oops. So I'll have to reschedule that, though I'm hoping since Husband is off the following day I can just push it to Friday. I don't like that test and I'm genuinely worried about the outcome this time (last time I passed with flying colors), so I don't want to postpone it any longer than is necessary. I want to get it over and done with so the full results will be back before my next OB appointment on May 5th or 6th.

Well, it's a bit past 2 AM now, and the heartburn and choking that had woken me up after a little less than an hour and a half of sleep are both long gone, replaced only by a somewhat dry mouth and a vague nausea that I can only assume is thanks to the two cups of chocolate milk I drank in an attempt to quell the heartburn. Nausea I can deal with, and that alone won't keep me from sleeping, especially when I have a conference call for work bright and early at 9 AM and will then be going to work afterwards. Time to head back to bed.

I guess it's my own fault; I'm typically the "organizer" around here when it comes to events and schedules, so if I wanted something done I should've gotten on it weeks ago. We're busy people, and for our friends, weekdays are difficult days when it comes to getting together. Weekends always work better. Still, I guess I was hoping for something..

The Kid woke up at 7:15 AM, two hours earlier than usual, when Husband's alarm on his phone accidentially went off. Ever since, today has been mostly yelling (us) and grouching (The Kid), which has apparently - from what I can hear - been carried into the shower, via The Kid grabbing certain portions of Husband's anatomy. Other than that, we've had breakfast, and will be joining my mother at her place of employment for lunch in about an hour. I don't think any of us will be particularly hungry come lunchtime, but we'll manage one way or the other. Past that? I've gotten a couple of Facebook messages saying happy birthday. No other calls (except from my mother), nothing. There will be no cake today, no celebratory dinner tonight, no other gifts, and certainly no get-together (although I do my best to make sure that Husband and The Kid get a cake and some sort of gathering every year). Last year I wrote "happy birthday" messages to Husband all over our windows (one window even still states all of this stuff), hung streamers, blew up lots of balloons.

I suppose I've no right to gripe. I could've organized all of this myself, or asked someone else to do so. I got a "happy birthday" from my soon-to-be sister-in-law (in-law) yesterday. I had options, but instead of taking advantage of them, I'm finding reasons to complain. I'm not in high school anymore; nobody's going to decorate my locker and make sure that in choir, theatre, and band I'm sung to. I'm not going to get birthday cards passed to me all day. I'm hardly around anybody else for them to remember otherwise.

Ah, well. Enough griping from me, there's showering and more cleaning to be done, clothes to lay out for The Kid .. Plenty to do to occupy myself. Later, after cleaning and picking up, there will be fun in the form of getting juice and milk and bread at the store. Oh, yeah. I'm a real party animal.

My clock says 11:51 PM on April 21st, so technically I haven't lost the fight - no matter what time Blogger thinks it is (or isn't). I have yet to figure out how to fix the time stamp problem; I've tried on multiple occasions but to no avail.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be 23. Today has not been a particularly good day, and I am sincerely hoping that tomorrow is loads better. I will be spending most of it cleaning the house - not an ideal sitaution, but I'll take any improvement at the moment.

Please keep this beautiful baby girl (linked, hover over for clickability) in your thoughts - she is "another" Kayleigh Anne (we have the same first and last name), and has pulled through so much recently to suddenly take a very terrible, heartbreaking dive. I hope for her family's sake that things do change, soon, for the better. They have such faith and conviction and have endured through multiple struggles, and they (and their adorable daughter) deserve so much better than this. 

And tastes damn good, too.

Husband gave me my birthday present today (my birthday is on Wednesday). I found a game a while back on Yahoo! Games, and found myself instantly amused by it. It is aptly named "The Princess Bride Game" and at the time I was only able to download a trial version, but found it adorable and amusing. The movie itself holds significance for us, as the first time Husband came down to visit me, we watched it at his behest - and shared our first kiss. It wasn't the world's most romantic thing, but we still have a certain amount of appreciation for this fact, some nine years later. I intend on installing, although I likely won't play tonight, since it's already 11 PM and it turns out I'm rather tired. The Kid is snoozing peacefully in bed, and the idea of curling up next to that warm, angelic teddy bear of a two-year-old is calming and appealing. I want to go sleep, too, and be a part of that happiness.

Thus, today's post is short - but at least I've gone three days in a row now and have managed to post something, however inane!

When The Kid was born, he was 8 lbs 4 oz. A good-sized kid, originally due April 16th. When we left the hospital we were told that his biliruben levels were elevated, and to come back the next day for blood tests. Come back we did - and within 24 hours of originally coming home, we were back in the hopsital (he lost well over a pound within his first few days).

Jaundice, among all of the potential side-effects of delivering early, really isn't the most life-threatening. I was supposedly jaundiced when I was born. Lots of people were - and everybody I know has been okay. But for first-time parents, it was excruciating to be told to leave our beautiful baby boy in a box, to let him cry because it was better to have him in that box crying than it was to take him out and risk damaging any of his organs.

Husband took to singing "Yellow" by Coldplay to The Kid when he was crying and there was nothing either of us could do. It was an appropriate song, although I don't think either of us really thought his skin had that signature yellow tint to it that jaundiced babies tend to get. In retrospect it should be relatively amusing - Husband had the common sense to sing a song that was appropriate for the situation - but the lyrics themselves seemed to hone in on a deeper emotion that we were getting to experience for the first time. 

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah, they were all yellow.
I came along,
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called yellow.
So then I took my turn,
Oh what a thing to have done,
And it was all yellow.
Your skin
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
You know, you know I love you so.
I swam across,
I jumped across for you,
Oh what a thing to do.
'Cuz you were all yellow,
I drew a line,
I drew a line for you,
Oh what a thing to do,
And it was all yellow.
Your skin,
Oh yeah your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
And you know for you,
I'd bleed myself dry.
For you I'd bleed myself dry.
It's true, look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine.
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do.

When I say that I've had a bad day, I mean that today really wasn't all that awful up until, for some reason, the point when Husband went to work after I came home. I spent nearly all of those four hours he was gone sobbing uncontrollably, and after he left to go to Sunday night game, it began again. I have only just stopped crying within the last 45 minutes or go, an accomplishment I'd be more willing to flaunt if I understood better why I put myself through so many hours of mental anguish just for the sake of bawling my eyes out. It's even upsetting #2, Little Kid, who is defiantly kicking the shit out of me in retribution for all the loud, crying-type noises I've been torturing him with.

I guess every once in a while we just need to get it all out, to find some kind of release for the pent-up anger and frustration and sadness that we box away day after day. I never was good at dealing with individual emotions, and so I think I find it easier to let them stew until I can't stand it anymore. A good cry unfortunately doesn't always do the trick, but more often than not it will help enough that I can sufficiently continue on with life without feeling like some kind of crazed sociopath. Tonight, however, the reasons for my crying leave me wanting to do little more than cuddle up with my two-year-old and be thankful that while I admit to having problems that are more than I alone can deal with, I am not fucked up enough that I would willingly and thoughtlessly starve and beat my baby boy, then leave him to die. There is a picture fresh in my mind of a gorgeous, blonde-haired little boy who met such a fate, a picture of him smiling and happy and looking as though his world is wonderful and perfect, and it tears my heart to absolute shreds to know that he is no longer alive and died at the same age as my beautiful baby boy.

I may have problems, but at least I am not a monster even on my worst days.

Meanwhile, the house is a no - rent would be jacked up to $500 total, which far exceeds our payment abilities. Back to the drawing board. It is, however, good to have a solid answer, to not wonder any longer. In this sort of situation, it is dangerous for us to have too much hope about one single option, hope that keeps us from persuing other choices because we are too hung up on the potentials - and now that this option is no more, we will move on and continue looking for other places to live. 

The new layout has a link to it on the right-hand bar, and for anyone looking for free (or cheap) layouts that vary seasonally, I highly suggest checking them out.

Until tomorrow - for now, I'm going to go pee one last time (until I have to get up again to do so in two hours) and head to bed so I can curl up with The Kid and wonder about things.

I was at Wal-Mart earlier, perusing their sandal collection and looking for something relatively cheap that I can (yet again) wear while in labor at the hospital, and ended up finding a dress to wear to our friend Bec's wedding next month, and a new shirt. It turns out that Wally World has discontinued their maternity clothing (at least locally), not that the damn stuff ever fit me anyway, yet a good portion of their everyday plus sized clothing actually functions better as maternity wear. I intend on also making some of this into nursing wear, should nursing work out this time around, although I will be honest in admitting that the concept of a nursing bra for someone my size is laughable at best. I've done a bit of research and have thus far learned the following:

People can charge a lot for plus-sized clothing.
People DO charge a lot for plus-sized clothing.
I will be spending $50 easily on one good nursing bra. ONE.

To me, this seems ungodly. The idea of spending more on one bra that I MIGHT get to use for a year and that may not fit me once #3 rolls around than I would spend on three pairs of jeans is ludacris. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem I'll be given much of a choice. Forcing a regular bra to work as a nursing bra is difficult at best given my size, and completely tearing one apart to attempt to make it into a nursing bra is a feat that is not for the lighthearted (a group that I am certainly a member of, if not maybe VP). The thought of trying to breastfeed, especially in public, and still manage some level of modesty, seems far-fetched given the circumstances I'm facing. I can't bring myself to justify spending that much money on one bra that I'll have to special-order, a bra that may not fit me in the first place and a bra that I may have to spend money on to ship - meaning if I spend a total of $60 on one bra, plus shipping, one way, I will still be out $20 once I've shipped the damn thing back after I found it didn't fit. Then I have to wait for the refund. And then I'd have to start the process again. If one bra doesn't fit, I will lose a THIRD of my investment into it (or thereabouts) attempting to get it, then give it back.

In lighter news, our living arrangements have not yet changed. A full day's worth of rain (with another day of heavy rain being promised to us by the local meteorologists) means we're still struggling with leaks on the wall by Husband's desk, and on the other side of the wall directly behind a bookcase I'm struggling to empty out. I keep meaning to work on packing, but at this point it's a bigger deal to keep the house halfway clean. My new doula, a wonderful woman I found via DONA, will be visiting in the next two weeks or so to come talk to us. I'm excited, but I'm worried at the same time - we are notorious pack rats, and have a LOT of stuff sitting around. Mostly toys. Making all of this stuff look like it's halfway organized always turns out to be a struggle of several days, and even then it's back to normal within a week. Partially because we're lazy. And partially because ... Well, keeping up a home with a two-year-old in tow is difficult. Just ask us.

We have a place in mind we're considering, and need to continue our search for other arrangements, but so far I think we've both come to terms with the entire situation. It sucks on levels I cannot begin to explain, but at this rate we aren't being given much of a choice. We can either deal with it now, or wait until the last minute and end up homeless. I'm not a fan of the second option, so #1 is all we've got for now. I keep reminding myself that one way or the other, everything will work out as it's supposed to, and as long as we're all doing okay and have a roof over our heads and food to eat, and of course jobs to go to, we're doing a hell of a lot better than we've been able to claim in the past. We will manage, we will survive, and if it means a struggle, it's nothing we haven't done before.

As a sidenote, Husband has issued a challenge to other bloggers, and to himself: a 30-day Blog-a-Thon. He intends to blog every day for 30 days straight. I accepted his challenge on what he considered to be Day 1 for him - April 13th - and promptly did not follow through. In fact, I failed by five days, if you ignore the fact that I began this post before midnight. Husband has done quite well, only missing a couple of times. I think, though, that this says a lot about us.

We're young, we have things to work on. We'll manage. Always do.

Here's wishing everyone a warm weekend and a drier Sunday than we're going to have.

Even the uplifting strains of "Come Sail Away" in the background can't make up for all of this.

We still haven't heard back from our landlady about the status of the house we were going to rent-to-own. At this point, I realize fully that I should call her myself and find out exactly what's going on. The problem is, of course, that I'm absolutely done with this entire situation. It seems unlikely at this point that we're going to get the house, and while I'm tempted to pursue it with some sort of unrealistic optimism, it doesn't seem worth all the hassle anymore. I'm painfully aware of how dire of a situation this is, but at the same time I can't begin to explain how draining it is to go through all of this at once. I had never thought that in this economy we would have to struggle so violently to WANT to pay someone money every month for living someplace! The worst part is that thanks to our combined credit histories, we have no chance of buying in the immediate future - leaving us open to the housing crisis. I worry daily about whether or not we'll be one of the world's homeless in a month or two.

We have options, of course, limited as they are. I'm single-handedly attempting to explore them all, but my expectations are depressingly low. I suppose I'm tiring of all of this drama; I'm not a fan of soap operas for a reason, and the idea of dealing with finding housing for all of us and trying, at the same time, to figure out how we will make ends meet and when we'll pay bills is becoming a strain. I usually open and deal with all of the bills we get - electric and phone go straight to me, and I deal with them alone nine times out of ten. Rent is open season but I feel I'm usually the one that remembers it needs to be paid and arranges for us to take those few extra minutes in order to do so. The car bills always go straight to Husband's desk, because they're in his name, but most of the time I'm again the one that brings up when they're due. GMAC no longer calls him first, they call my phone instead; the problem is that they can't actually share or discuss account information with me because the car is entirely in his name, so all they're ever calling to do is talk to him, or have him call them back. I pass on the message, but he rarely calls them unless I harp on him for days prior just to get him to let them know that yes, we remember they exist and we haven't forgotten that we owe them money, too.

Thankfully, though we've been denied our food stamp benefits for now (a long story in and of itself), I have an appointment to reapply for WIC next Thursday. Because we're on the medical card for the state and I'm currently pregnant, we SHOULD qualify without question, but we're still required to bring proof of our income - I'm sure you can see why this makes me nervous, considering that we should qualify no matter how much we make as long as I'm pregnant and we're on the state medical program, but they still require income verification. This is our only hope at affording some semblance of groceries on our own, and I can only hope we're approved. It's really, really embarassing to use, but at the same time I'm so thankful for the assistance WIC provides.

Keep your thoughts with us while we figure out how to deal with all of this. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, and will be speaking with my OB about seeing a therapist and potentially starting the medication I should've been on years ago.

Only, perhaps not so much.

We were informed last week that our landlady would (hopefully) let us know today whether or not the actual owner of the house would let us rent-to-own without an increase in rent. Unfortunately, the way she worded the situation last I spoke to her indicated that she had no control over whether or not the rent would increase, and there was a good possibility that it would. She said she would hopefully find out by today, but I kind of felt that even if she doesn't find out today, she still needs a yes or no on the house. This leaves us with a couple of situations; three, to be exact, since the fourth isn't an option. To give you an idea of where we stand, here are the options:

* We go ahead and rent the house while it's still on the market, leaving us open to having the house sold from underneath us while we're still living there at any point in time (this is the one that isn't an option for us).

* We tell her we'll take the house anyway, without an answer about the rent increase, and then attempt to deal with the increase if and when it happens (also not an option, because IF the rent goes up, we can't afford it).

* We find out the rent is going to increase for sure, which is also a no, but it's a potential option.

* We find out the rent WON'T go up, and thus can give her a yes on the house and stop worrying about all of this.

Obviously, out of all of those situations, the last one is the best for us. Anything else is a no, and means that we're back to the drawing board on our living situation, with even less time to try to find some kind of solution. There are numerous plus sides to the house; not only is it a guarantee of not having to deal with any stairs, but it means too that we'll have a full building to ourselves and a yard that's just our's. It isn't a perfect situation, but it's as much as we can hope for right now, considering our options.

Of course, we're also dealing with other typical life problems, namely money. That stuff is evil, although I'll avoid the cliché that it's somehow necessary in our lives. Tack on to our issues that we've suddenly been denied renewal of the LINK card this month, leaving us unable to even buy our own groceries, and it seems like everything is piling up on itself. Husband has stated multiple times that we will be okay and things will work out, and I do agree with that, but sometimes it's so difficult to actually see things in that positive light. Thus far, someone has been watching out for us - we've been lucky and fortunate enough to have that big miracle happen right when we needed it. But right now, we're in desperate need of that miracle - instead of it being us, all of our friends are finding their windfalls and we're yet again behind and struggling for the things that we NEED, and going without the few things that we want. This is rather typical for us, but it still seems grossly unfair; we've done our best to bust our asses for what we want, and for some reason we're still the ones that are being denied our few basic requests - like food, safe housing, and a little financial help here and there. I keep waiting for the state medical card to be withdrawn; we don't make enough for that to happen, and I know it, but I can't help worrying.

Today I'll likely be going out to request a housing form from Country Club Heights, a local income-based rental complex. They're almost always booked, though, and there's a waiting list that has no concern for immediate need.