I don’t like change

In honor of today’s title


For realz though, I think I fear change. For example, on July 19th I have an appointment with the new university to register for classes and I.am.terrified. I’m as super cereal as Al Gore’s hunt for ManBearPig

To this day, I still get new school jitters like I did walking into my elementary school. This time, it is magnified by a ton because I don’t just have to find one room, or even seven in the same building. This dang time, I’ll be skip-hopping across campus all by my lonesome with nothing more than a class schedule, a compass and the knowledge of which direction moss grows on trees. Not to mention trying to make friends. I’d really like to not bury myself in books instead of meeting new people, we’ll see how that goes.

It isn’t all new changes that I don’t like. I have BIG news! The Mister has re-enlisted into the military! Honestly, it was because of the latest zombie cow pandemic

He swore in this week. I am so ridiculously happy and proud of him, however I DREAD the influx of digi-camo stuff taking my house hostage in its slithery grip in Husband’s mancave and the garage.


We’re leaving on vacation in less than 36 hours YIPPEE!!!

I am so excited. I NEED this vacation. Do you know what I did this past week? No? Then please, pull up a chair, or take a spot on the loveseat. This one is a doozy and will hopefully make you feel better about yourself.

[Pretend that chimey music is playing, like it does during flashbacks on TV SitComs]

Earlier this week, I was feeling domesticated and wanted to get a jump on the housework so we wouldn’t have to do so much right before we left HA! What a joke. After sweeping and picking up the house, I volunteered to do the sisyphean task of cleaning the litterbox. Conveniently located in the laundry room, I was on a roll and almost done, when the grocery bag the waste was in FELL INTO THE WASHER. Please, don’t give me your sympathy or forced kind words, I know you are secretly pointing and laughing at me right now.

The husband was recouping his sleep from his work hours, but I knew to hold on to my sanity, I needed his help. After yelling some choice words, and hurling plastic things down the hallway, I called him in to help me. After scooping and using the vacuum [don’t worry I’ve cleaned out the vacuum ferociously!] we tested out the washer with an empty cycle, and THANK THE LORD IT STILL WORKED! I had a terrible fear I had broken the washer and with tail betwixt my legs, would have to explain it to the salesman while I was buying a new washer. Apparently, I still haven’t been housebroken yet. Know of any good schools?

Oh well, after tomorrow, my biggest worry will be bad tan lines and broken flip-flops.

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