My Husband the Packrat

I just spent the last 6 days with some sort of awful, gastrointestinal yukkiness that I can only liken to dysentary, coupled with near 100 degree heat (sans a/c) and one of the most ragingest UTI's I've ever had (and I've had a few). I checked my urinanalysis results online (love that!) but think I need a degree to decipher. I did play dr. Google and methinks it's pretty clear I have an infection, so good thing I went in when I did. From the likes of the virulence with which it attacked all that entered my digestive tract, I'd say it was something nasty. The full results of the culture should be back this week.

So today - whew - the weather has cooled somewhat, the antibiotics are kicking in and things are starting to resemble normalness.

All that is going through my mind at this point is the Wonder Pets anthem (the phone! the phone is ring-ing). It is stuck in my head like some sort of mommy-fog-brain mantra. My hot face is sunburnt to the color of a Gala apple (thanks to walking in a parade in the midday sun while taking Cipro) and I've yet to have dinner at 9 p.m. but I just took a shower and am looking forward to a good week.

We ventured out to Gilroy today to check out homes today. Steve seems to think that we could move there and he'd be closer to work, I could do the SAHM thing, etc. Well, yeah, Gilroy is off the table. It's way too rural, way too middle of nowhere and way too pit-like for my liking. I think Steve is bummed out that I didn't like it, but I can't live somewhere like that. Especially staying home. The more I think about it, the more I realize the smart thing is to buy here and stay working 3 days. I think that would afford me the greatest amount of overall balance and make sense for both our jobs.

So then Steve tells me I can go ahead and get the storage unit and he'll start taking stuff over this week. I remind him that we need to pare down, have the garage sale, then debrix box, THEN decide what size storage unit we are getting. He proceeds to tell me we don't need a debris box, we don't have that much debris. I point to the garage (which is approximately 1000 square feet filled to the gills with his crap). We then start to argue about whether or not he will be keeping the contents of said garage.

He says he's not getting rid of any of the useless old furniture, video tapes (seriously? video tapes?), a rolltop desk, a round coffee table and any number of useless things that are taking up space that we don't have. I told him we are not spending $ to store garbage. Harsh words, I know, but COME ON!! When I said we were getting a storage unit, I meant for our house belongings. That stuff is not following us to the new house. It just can't. It's all about the kids now, not saving videos of Eric Clapton from 1982.

I am married to a packrat. A packrat in serious denial. This is going to take some wifely finessing of the highest level. I must go plan my strategy now.