Waiting Anxiety

I still donae have my literal shit together this morning, but the colitis attack seems to be passing. The incontinence remains, but at least it doesnae feel like demonic trolls are mining for gold in my gut. The recovery grumbles of an agitated colon I can handle. I wouldnae ever choose them, but I have worked with meaner handicaps.

The new house is officially cleared for move in. The decking crew is scheduled to start work on safe stairs, etc., on Monday. It is great to have that item off the waiting anxiety plate, butttttttaaaaa. . . Still waiting on that "New Normal" for our little ship of fools with the "Permanency Hearing" scheduled for January. As of the minute their parents died, the three children became "Wards of the State." I still donae care to understand the legalese attached to that scary sounding yaddah blah. I study linguistics and speak 4 languages and legelese remains incomprehensible to me in ALL those languages. Can you leave me the bliss of ignorance on that score, please. Pretty please with lawful sugar on top?

Mas suspiros. . .

I find myself reluctant to furnish the house with the permanency hearing still pending. Without the children, the new house makes no sense, whatsoever, for just Hubs and I. It isnae as big as the house my in-laws died in, but it is way more house than I would choose to be shackled with on my own. I miss the road. Be ^it^ nature or psychotic nurture, I really do feel more at home on the road than I have felt in any building I have stayed in. Suitcase housekeeping makes MUCH more sense to me than dusting knicknacks and momentos.

Without the children, I will probably head back to the River Region. I still donae love the dust bowl, by itself. I love Hubs, but he is a busy, busy man. Our conversations tend to be far more intimate when my physical distance makes it clear that I amnae just another stress factor in his busy days. More than that, I still miss my rivers sorely. My biggest complaint with Texas (aside from the boom madness) is that there isnae a navigable river in the entire state. Ever more, I feel like a sea captain trying to find contentment in a kiddie pool. As I prep myself for the unwelcome chore of furniture shopping, I find myself worrying that I will have to turn around and sell it in February if the court takes the children from us. The only thing I hate more than furniture shopping is furniture selling. Why does The Gnarly Old Dickhead keep trying to make a retailer out of me? Does I need to throw another tantrum?

Noch mehr Seufzer. . .

Still no update on the schedule for the vacation pickup. Big Bro's vacation starts after the 1st grade Christmas party this morning. We will probably let the sisters start their vacation at the same time. Maybe. I do rather enjoy the luxury of flexibility offered by their daycare center. It is almost as flexible as a baby's sense of time. I gave in to the evil urge to manipulate Big Bro into calling Grampa for that schedule update, but he didnae bite and immediately returned the subject to the new house. I didnae push the manipulation. I like to keep my manipulation talents on a VERY short leash, when I let them out of the cage at all.

Onward to the last school day of 2019. Some days is more exciting than others. . .

I ain't none too confident, but I believes I is holding steady. Leaving the mood indicator at, "Okay." I am fine. How are you?