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!