Fat Girl Panic

If you ever ask me, I will say “people suck.  I hate people.”  The truth is that I don’t really hate people.  It is the shield I wrap around myself because I am constantly being let down by people, because deep down, I believe that people are good.  And when I keep seeing people go out of their way to prove me wrong, to prove that people are not good, I get so hurt, that it is easier to just put up that crispy outer shell and say “people suck.  I hate people.”

Joss Whedon, who is my favorite TV writer, recently created and released a web show called “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog”.  It chronicles the rise of a new super villain from his geeky, hapless start, showing how he became the seemingly heartless super villain he ends up being.  I love the music, and the acting and the singing.  And the writing is full of Whedon’s trademark wit… the kind that you may not catch the first time through, but that is so clever, that every time I find one, I am more impressed with his nuanced style.

The thing that draws me in the most, though, is the thing that always draws me in to a Joss Whedon story… and that is the realness of the characters.  You will never find a character who is purely good or purely evil in any of his stories.  You may be a horrible snake demon who wishes to devour an entire graduating class, but come on people, let’s use clean language.  You may be a superhero who always saves the day, but you’re still a lousy girlfriend.  You may be a vampire who wants to turn all of mankind into a walking juice box, but you still want to keep your family together.  Those who know Joss’s work will recognize the Buffy references here.  There are a billion examples of this from Buffy, Angel and Firefly, and I expect to see them in the upcoming Dollhouse as well.

But here in Dr. Horrible, they are never more clear.  He says again and again “the world is a mess”.  Now, his plan to fix it is to dominate and rule it.  But he is coming at his goal of world domination from a good place in his heart.  He wants to make the world a better place.  He is clearly misguided, and he is clearly doing unethical things.  However, as you watch the show, you find yourself rooting for him to succeed, to conquer the superhero, to get the girl.

And this superhero!  Sure, he’s doing good deeds, but it is not from a desire to save the world.  Here is a “hero” who is really a self-aggrandizing, womanizing bully.  So what if he is stopping a heist?  He is beating up a geek who is no match for him physically.  He is stealing the girl, not because he wants her, but because his nemesis does.  He is helping people to impress the girl, to be loved and admired.  Not for the sake of good.

And so, as I struggle in my own little life with people and attitudes that are morally and ethically the opposite of my own, I find myself becoming more and more resentful of them.  The world is a mess.  People are sneaky and manipulative.  They are taking advantage of people.  They are doing things that, maybe don’t hurt mankind, but certainly don’t help either.

I see the character of Penny in Dr. Horrible.  She is this bright-eyed idealist.  In her eyes, the world is getting better.  People are trying harder.  People are helping each other.  And in her, “rapture is on the rise”.  For me, I don’t see it.  I can’t get there from here.

I see the character of Dr. Horrible.  And he is jaded.  And to his perspective, people are getting worse.  People are selfish.  People are manipulative.  And the only way he sees of improving the world is to rule the world and bend it to his will.  I find myself wishing I had the ability to do just that.  If *I* were in charge of the world….  (sigh).

I had a conversation with a coworker today that involved an almost weekly pep-talk about how to get from where I am to “rocking” in the eyes of the company without selling my soul.  And he basically tried to teach me how to manipulate people.  This is always his response.  He doesn’t say it like that… but it is “here’s how to present your ideas and cover your ass, you look like a rock star, and you make them look like idiots.”  He wants me to be Captain Hammer (corporate tool).

I can’t be Penny.  I’m shown again and again that people are not getting better but worse.

So my choices:  Dr. Horrible or Captain Hammer.  Super villain with a broken soul, or Super Hero without a soul.  Both seem like prices too high to pay.

It feels more like I’m headed for another option:  mindless drone.  Sidekick.  Do as you are told.  Do not examine the moral or ethical dilemma.  Do what your super hero or super villain authority figure tells you.  So I find myself in the position of Moist.  “At my most bad-ass, I make people want to take a shower.”  That’s what I’ve got.  At my most powerful, I make people feel ever so slightly guilty about continuing to manipulate and trick people.  And nothing changes.

Where does one enroll to get a PhD in Horribleness?

2008 has been a hell of a year.  So much has happened, and so much has gone wrong that I have spent the vast majority of this year whining and complaining and bitching.  But things have started to turn around, and for that I am so grateful.  Today seemed like the right day to acknowledge the things that are going well, the things for which I am grateful.  As I have been scraping my knees on rock bottom, I discovered that I have some truly amazing friends who have been offering me a hand up.  So here goes, my gratitude list:

• I am thankful for my boss Aaron who let me transfer back to Phoenix with hardly a word to say. 
• I am thankful that Rob and I are no longer living in Iowa.  It was an experiment that could not have gone more wrong.  I like to call it the worst summer vacation of all time.  But it is over, and we are home in Phoenix, finally.
• I am thankful for Tim and Ann who took us in, gave us their guest room for nearly 2 full weeks while we searched for a place to live back here in Phoenix.  We had nowhere else to go, and because we didn’t have to pay for a hotel for that time, we were able to get money together to get into this apartment.
• I am thankful for Krista who offered us her home to get back on our feet.  Although we did not take the offer, it was remarkably generous, and I truly appreciate that the offer was made.
• I am thankful for Rob’s dad who loaned us the difference between what we had and what we needed to get into the apartment.
• I am thankful for Mr. Chris who loaned us dishes and miscellaneous kitchen stuff so that we would actually be able to use our kitchen to cook now that we finally have one.
• I am thankful for Mike (and his mother, whom I’ve never met) who, when they found out that Rob and I were living in an apartment without furniture and would be for months, gave us furniture that she had in storage, and even loaned us a bed that was in Mike’s spare room.  Thanks to them, we now have a sofa, loveseat, dining room table, chairs, coffee table, end tables, and as I said, a bed.  This would have been a horribly uncomfortable place for the next few months without these things.  This place looks like people actually live here now, and it is a million times better for it.
• I am thankful for my mother and step-father who loaned us the folding tables and lawn chairs that are now functioning as our desks, and who also loaned us a bunch of miscellaneous kitchen stuff.
• I am thankful for Jon who has done so much to get our computers back up and running after that fun little electrical problem that blew out both of our machines.  Jon spent nearly an entire weekend taking apart both boxes, troubleshooting and replacing parts from his spare parts so that in the end, my machine was completely fixed and Rob’s was limping along enough to do everything but play warcraft and audio.  At the worst time possible for our machines to go out, with no hope to be able to afford buying not just 1, but 2 new computers, Jon fixed ours and didn’t even charge us for the parts.
• I am thankful for Daniel who made us a remarkable deal on one of his spare computers so that Rob could have a fully functioning computer.  Rob is ecstatic.  He says the new box is screaming fast.
• I am thankful for Jeni and Jonah who came up with a great job idea at exactly the right moment.  They must have heard us struggling from across town, because their timing was impeccable.  They found a job opening that is exactly what Rob wants to be doing, something that will make him happy and get him started on the right foot as he starts off on his long road to becoming a chiropractor, and Jonah offered to put in a good recommendation for him as well.  It couldn’t have come at a better time.
• I am thankful for my husband Rob, who struggles along with me, and who holds my hand and tells me he loves me and that I’m beautiful every single day.

I am not a person who asks for help.  I am not a person who likes to admit that I can’t do it alone.  This year has been a remarkably humbling experience for me.  I have had to ask for and accept help all over the place.  And I am absolutely blown away by how much my friends have stepped up to help us out.  In one of the darkest and most difficult times in my life, these wonderful people have been the light shining for me, showing me the way out of the mess we go ourselves into.  Words are not enough.  I am overwhelmed with gratitude.  Thank you all so much. 

We gave away our dog yesterday.  Sweet Lizzy has been with us for more than a year.  We’ve been trying to make it work these last few months… arranging everything in our lives around the idea of keeping her.  Where we lived, who we rented from, what kind of hotel we would stay in, whether or not we could go somewhere to celebrate our anniversary… everything was about making sure that Lizzy was ok.

Today we are moving out of the house we have been trying to make livable.  Today we are walking away from Rob’s mother and moving into a hotel until we can find an place to live more permanently.  We finally realized that it was selfish of us to keep putting Lizzy through all this stress.  We put her in a truck and drive her across the country.  We put her in a hotel room and tell her not to acknowledge that other people are coming and going when her instincts tell her to defend.  We make her stay in the car or locked in a room in the house while we are working.  We move her into the house, but without any furniture, so nothing smells like home.  She has no fence and cannot do anything without a choke collar.  We’re so busy that her walks get shorter and shorter.  Finally finish the fence, and after a fight that was not her fault, the walks stop altogether.  She is left to play outside by herself.  There is thunder every week here.  And I’m sure that she could tell that Rob and I were stressed out and unhappy.  She has been getting more and more stressed, and eating less and less.  She’s gotten so skinny.

Now we’re moving again.  Into a hotel room.  Then into an apartment.  Rob will have to start working now.  He would not be with her during the day.   We searched high and low for an apartment that would let us keep her, but in this horrible little town, they do not exist.  We found a place where we could keep her if we lied about her breed and if the management team didn’t figure out that this dog that looks just like a pit bull is in fact a pit bull.  I just couldn’t put her through all of that.

So last week we started looking for another home for her.  With her history, i couldn’t in good conscious just put an ad on the internet “hey, free pit bull!”  We tried every no-kill shelter in the state, and a few in neighboring states.  Everyone is over capicity, and with Lizzy requiring a one-dog family, every foster house is full.  Rob and I began contemlating the pound.  ForLizzy, that means almost certain death.

Almost every service man who came to the house to do any work made Lizzy crazy.  She barked and growled and didn’t like any of them.  Except Mitch the drywall guy.  For some reason, she liked him and his 2 teenage sons that worked with him.  And they all really liked her.  And when Mitch found out that we were contemplating the pound, he didn’t hesitate.  He said he wanted to take her.  And he did.  Last night, he and the boys came over and hung out with Lizzy for a little while.  We told them all about her quirks, brought down her bed, her toys, her food, her dishes.  When she saw the collar, she was so excited.  A walk!  finally, a walk!  The boys took her down to the van.  A ride!  Yes!  I love rides!  she wagged her tail and hopped in without looking back.

The house seems empty without her.  Rob and I escaped to a movie rather than mope around the house.  Walking in the door late at night without her there to greet us felt very lonely.  Waking up this morning without being nudged by her cold nose felt like something very important was missing.

Rob says maybe when we get settled, we can get a smaller dog like we had originally planned when I fell in love with Lizzy instead. Maybe a long time from now when the dust has settled I might feel differently.  But right now, it feels like I’ll never want a dog again.

I know it’s selfish to wish I could keep her.  Those boys go running by the river every morning and promised to take Lizzy with them.  They have a big back yard and a lot of energy.  She’s going to be so loved and so taken care of.  She’s going to have a good life.  But I miss her.

For those of you who have been following my rants on here about the house and the in-laws, you may not really be interested in another chapter.  If so, you can skip this entry.  I won’t be offended.

Here’s the cliffsNotes version for anyone who hasn’t read or heard the rest of it.

Original plan:

• In-laws buy a house
• We get to pick all the new light features, counters, flooring, etc.
• Rob spends 4 weeks working in a supervisory/some hands on capacity with contractors fixing it up
• The would replace the roof and convert attic to master suite (including bath)
• We move in first week of July
• Rent is $600+/- a month

First Change:

•  We don’t get to pick any of the features.

Next Change:

•  We can’t keep Sam our younger puppy.

Next Change:

• They can’t afford to replace the roof.

Next Change:

•  They can’t afford to do anything to the attic (reducing the planned living space by couple hundred square feet)

Next Change:

• Diana is so rude to every contractor that ones that bother to show up at all never stay to finish the job.  So Rob is now the entire labor force.

Next Change:

• It’s costing more than they expected, rent will probably be closer to $800-900.

Next Change:

•  It’s taking longer than expected, you can’t move in right away (meaning, since we’d already packed up and moved, we spent 2 weeks in a hotel, which we paid for, even though they said that they would pay for it).

We finally move in to a house that:

• Has no kitchen
• No windows in the basement (meaning open holes which invite in stray cats)
• Problems with the vents meaning no A/C… in July.
• No lights in the bathroom
• No fence in the back yard (meaning remaining dog Lizzy must be locked up all day long).
• Unfinished drywall in kitchen area, master bed and bathroom.
• No insulation in master bedroom and bathroom.
• We could not move in any furniture originally either, so we were sleeping on a blow-up mattress on the floor in the dining room.

Rob continues working like it’s a full-time job.  It has now been 15 weeks since he started.  Diana treats him like less than dirt, yelling at him and belittling him and demanding more from him than any employee would ever be expected to do.

Today we received an email from the in-laws.

• The rent is now $1,215.
• They will agree to charging “only” $625 until the kitchen is completed.
• They have not yet ordered cabinets and lights for said kitchen (even though Diana told us more than a month ago that she did it, and just last week that they were back-logged due to the flood).
• We owe 2 months of back rent, so by September 15th, we need to give them $1975.
• They want us to set up direct deposit into their account for rent every month from now on.
• we have to sign a 1-year lease.

So, after this bombshell, I am done.  Completely and utterly finished.  Rob and I have already started apartment hunting.  I am even ready to say that if we need to find anther home for Lizzy, then we do.  I cannot give one more inch.

And I will not pay one red penny.  If they decide to go after us for “back rent”, then I have told Rob that I believe we should counter-sue for back wages.  A modest estimate of what he should get paid for what he’s done is nearly $30k.  The cheapest, stingiest amount they possibly could have paid him for the work he’s done is still $5,200.  So go ahead and come after us for $1,975.   I’m almost looking forward to the fight.

Picture a scene if you will.  A man is walking a dog, using a leash and collar.  He carries a bag to clean up any messes made by the dog.  They are having a pleasant stroll down a public sidewalk on a public street.  As they pass a house, a woman opens a door and lets her dog into her front yard.  There is no fence around the yard, and the dog is not on a leash.  The woman does not follow her dog into the yard.  The woman’s dog goes tearing across the yard, growling and barking, looking like he is intent on attacking the man or his dog.  The dog on the leash manages somehow to pull free of the collar and the 2 dogs begin to fight.  The man wades into the fight, pulls his dog back and puts the collar back on.  The woman runs out of the house and pulls her dog away.  The fight has ended.  One of the dogs is injured and must be rushed to the vet.  The injured dog loses site in one eye.

Who is at fault here?  The dog that attacked?  The dog that defended?  The dog that was injured or the one that did the injuring?  I’m specifically leaving out details here for the moment so that we can consider the situation without prejudice.

Now, imagine that the man is walking a Yorkshire Terrier, or a Chihuahua.  Imagine that the woman lets lose a Mastiff or a Rottweiler.  This is a terrifying scene.  Here this man is, walking a dog down the street, minding his own business, and here a vicious and ferocious dog is let loose to attack him and his dog.  It’s easy to guess which dog was injured in this fight.  Who is at fault here?  It would seem clear to me that in this case, the fault would be the woman and the large attacking dog.

Now let’s change the scene a little.  Let’s imagine that the man is also walking a large dog.  A Great Dane or a German Shepard.  These 2 large dogs are evenly matched.  Now who’s fault is it?

And another change to the scene.  Let’s now imagine that the dog the woman lets out to attack is actually a Beagle or a Shizu.   Once again, it’s easy to guess which dog was injurred.  Obviously the smaller dog would not stand much of a chance against the larger dog.  The larger dog would clearly have the upper hand, even though the attack was unprovoked, it is clear from the onset which dog would be the winner and which would be the loser in this fight.  Is the winning dog at fault simply for being naturally bigger and stronger?

The truth of the scene was that my husband was walking our pit bull down the street.  And the dog that attacked the two of them was a Bichon Frise.  In truth, I cannot picture a less threatening looking dog.  As a person I can look at this little fluffy white dog and at my large, sturdy dog and tell in an instant that this little dog does not pose a significant threat.

However, if you look at it from the dog’s point of view, she wouldn’t care how large or small the attacker is, only that it is attacking.  Lizzy saw a threat.  Had it been a rat or a grizzly, she would have defended herself and her family, my husband.  Whether it was an easy kill or something that would have killed her, she would have fought back.

It’s a terrible tragedy that the neighbors dog lost it’s eye.  I feel horrible that it happened.  My husband and I spoke to the family and agreed to split the vet bills with them.  It was not an insignificant amount of money for the initial surgery when they tried to save the dog’s eye, and eventually had to remove it and sew the socket closed.  There are 3 follow up visits planned, and we have agreed to pay for half of those costs as well.  Even though it is a strain on us to do so financially, we will do it.

The family, however, is now threatening to call animal control and report a “vicious dog attack”.  My dog is a pit bull.  That is all they will need to hear.  If that report is filed, I will lose my dog.  They will kill her.   They will kill my dog because she is bigger than the other dog.  Not because she is at fault, but because she is bigger, and genetically better suited to defend herself than the other dog was to attack.  Never mind that this woman let her dog out of the house with no supervision, no fence, and no leash.  Never mind that her dog was the aggressor.  Never mind that the “vicious dog” that “attacked” was her dog.

I’m not sure how Lizzy pulled free of her collar, but even if she hadn’t, the little dog was not about to back down, and the dog’s owner payed no attention to her dog attacking a random man walking his dog down the street.

This is something that really upsets me about small dog owners.   They do not realize the seriousness of aggressive behavior from their dogs.  If you have a Yorkie or a Shizu or a Bichon Frise, people think it’s funny when your tiny, harmless little dog growls, snarls, attacks, or even bites at the legs of the guests.  They think it’s funny because they know the dog can do no real harm.  A large dog owner does not have that luxury.  The owner of a pit bull, or a rotweiller or a german shepard or mastiff knows that they cannot allow their dogs this type of aggressive behavior.  If that dog snarls at your guests, they will be terrified.  If that dog bit at the legs of visitors, the visitor would be injured.  So large dog owners have no choice but to responsibly handle their dogs.  They know not to let them act aggressively.  They know not to let them out unattended, without fence or leash, or even oversite.  They know that if their dog attacked another dog, or a person, that dog would be put to death by animal control.

But owners of small dogs don’t have that same imminent need.  Very few people report “vicious chihuahua attacks”.  Very few people say they were terrorized by a Yorkshire Terrier.   But all a pit bull need do is growl or snap at someone, and animal control is at your door.  And lord forbid that pit bull should ever put her mouth on someone.  she wouldn’t even need to break the skin and your “vicious dog” would be put down.

I don’t know what to do about these neighbors.  Do I go to them and say “please don’t report this”?  To me, this sounds like I’m admitting that this was in some way Lizzy’s fault.  Do I hope that animal control would see our side if they do?  Clearly, Lizzy was defending herself and my husband.   Do I call animal control myself?  and report that their dog attacked Lizzy and my husband?  what can I hope to gain here?  All I want is for my dog to not get murdered because some other family does not practice responsible dog ownership.

So this crazy idea popped into my head today as I was doing my usual daily scour of the news, following the political campaign season. I was reading an article about how McCain is using many of the same techniques against Obama that Clinton used in the primaries, only to a much greater extent. a McCain staffer was quoted as saying “Clinton won 8 of the last 13 contests, which means that he is beatable.”

Following this race as closely as I have been, it seems to me (and I know I may get some flack for saying so) that only a very corrupt or very stupid (or at the very least very uninformed) voter would choose McCain over Obama. The Prime Minister of Iraq has sided with Obama on his stance about the war. McCain has said over and over again that he doesn’t understand economics, and in separate statements that he isn’t going to let the economists tell him what to do (so the “I don’t know and I don’t care approach to the economy in the middle of a recession? awesome idea, genius.). He’s completely unapologetic about his complete lack of understanding of technology (recently saying he was just starting to learn about “The Google”). On social issues, he’s too conservative to appeal to middle of the roaders, and he’s too liberal to appeal to the crazy religious right.

So it makes me wonder… why is he even bothering? Clearly, he is not going to win. Almost every poll shows Obama ahead, some by a lot, some by such a small amount that it is within the margin of error. But none that I have seen tout McCain as the leader. (I receive daily feeds from Reuters, USAToday, Politico, FoxNews, the Washington Post, the New York Times, The Intelligence Daily, and Crooks and Liars. You would think if the poll exists, one of these news organizations would be talking about it.)

So then the crazy thought came. The way that Bush got elected was by a bunch of conservatives getting big conservative issues on the ballot to get the crazies to come out and vote. Things like gay marriage and partial-birth abortion (don’t get me started on this terrible mis-named issue and how it misleads people into thinking it’s something it isn’t). So the conservatives HAVE to get out and vote to protect families and babies. And by the way, while I’m here, I’ll check this box that says “Republican - George W. Bush” Maybe they thought he was the greatest, or maybe they just thought he was the lesser of two evils. But either way, history shows that W is in office today because the Evangelicals came out to vote, which made the race close enough to be decided by the supreme court.

So the crazy thought is this… are we as democrats doing the same thing now? The big issues of the day are ones that really get the progressives out to vote. The war in Iraq. The economy. Global Warming. US dependence on oil.

I have no doubt that Barack will win. I’m glad the strategy is working for us this time instead of against us. I just wonder about the way the game is played.

Update:  interesting.  5 minutes after I post, this shows up:

http://www.crooksandliars.com/2008/08/04/obama-and-mccain-tied-in-latest-poll/

… a new record, even for me.

This house, this move… it is so much work, so much stress.  I keep taking these little baby steps away from the original plan to the point that I hardly recognize where I am.  How many more things do I have to give up to make this work?  How many more things do I have to walk away from to make him happy?  And how much more does he have to give up for me?  Maybe this is just how a marriage works… you both keep compromising until neither of you are happy. And if that’s the case, it sucks.

Rob is working on this house for us, but also for his mother.  It is her house.  She paid for it.  She’s paying for the renovation. We are just renters, and Rob is just a worker.  Which, in her sick mind means that she gets to yell and scream and demean her son.  She gets to call him terrible names and hang up on him when he doesn’t do or say exactly what she hopes he’ll do or say at the exact second she hopes he’ll say it.  Never mind if what she wants is unreasonable.  Never mind that there’s no way possible for him to know what he’s supposed to say.  Never mind that she changes her addled mind every 30 seconds.

So today, she screams at him that he isn’t using “some fucking common sense” because he asked if she wanted to email us the agreement she expects the drywall guy to sign.  She begins railing… how can she possibly write the agreement and send it to us?  she’s getting on a plane.  She’s very busy.  He needs to write it out by hand and have the guy sign it.  How’s he supposed to know that?

On the drive from AZ to IA, she yelled at him that he wasn’t driving fast enough, she wanted us to arrive sooner.  Even explaining that it was not safe to drive faster, she screamed.  Explaining that there was a speed governor on the truck that did not allow us to drive faster, she yelled.  Apparently, we should go back in time and leave a day sooner if we can’t drive faster, because she wants us there NOW.

This is indicative of the way this entire process has worked.  She asks for advice from someone who actually knows what they are doing, she receives advice, she does something completely counter to the advice she is given, and then she is pissed at the advice-giver and at Rob (for doing what she said instead of the advice from the professional) because she didn’t get the results they said she would get IF she followed the advice. And of course, it’s NEVER her fault.

So today, one more outlandish screaming match later, and my husband is ready to give up.  Give up the house.  Give up our dog.  Give up even more of my possessions.  He wants to live in some crappy little student-housing apartment outside of town so that he doesn’t have to deal with his mother anymore.

I know he’s tired.  He’s been working under her outrageous demands for months now.  Most days, he starts working as soon as he rolls out of bed and he works until he falls back into bed at the end of the day.  And looking around the house, at how much more there is to do, it’s clear that we have a long, long, long road ahead before it is finished.

We have no kitchen.  And Diana hasn’t ordered the cabinets yet.  We have several rooms with bare drywall.  We have only half a fence.  We have no windows in the basement (and with all the rain, the mold they spent an entire day cleaning off with heavy chemicals is back).  And Diana keeps pissing off all of the workers so they stop showing up to work.   The only person who continues to work is Rob.  And he’s doing it for free.

I get what he’s going through.  I get why he’s mad.  I get that he doesn’t want to deal with it anymore.  I see why he wants to quit.  I am not blind to all of this.  I get it.

But what about me?  I gave up my house in Phoenix.  I’m humiliated to report that it is being foreclosed on. I gave up working with people that I know and like, who seem to like me, who I consider friends to work in an office with people who barely speak to me, and when they do, it is not usually conversation I can really get into.  I gave up all of my support structure.  My friends, my family, everyone who cares about me except Rob… they are all a couple thousand miles away.  I gave up Sam - my puppy… a sweet little dog that was MY dog… who actually liked me so that we could keep Lizzy.  Lizzy is sweet also, but she is Rob’s dog.  I adore her, but she isn’t my dog.  I can’t seem to really connect with her.  I am so lonely here that I can hardly breathe.  Rob is all I have here, and he is too stressed out and tired to really pay much attention to me.

I gave all of this up because of the promise of this beautiful, comfortable house.  Even though Rob would be in school and I would not see much of him, I would have this space.  I could have room for the treadmill.  I could have a beautiful office.  I could have a nice big kitchen.  I would have room to keep all of my holiday decorations - and have someplace to display them all during the holidays.  We would have a backyard for Lizzy to run around and play in, and a doggy door so she could get out of the bad weather.  We would have room to have a child, either our own or a foster child.  This gorgeous house that would be perfect for entertaining (if I ever manage to make any friends here).  It would even have a “coffee room”… a small room with wingback chairs on one side and counter space and wet bar on the other… a place to set up a decent coffee pot… a comfortable spot where I could curl up and read.  Lots of light…  A space in the attic for a spiritual circle so that Rob and I could actually have a dedicated area for ritual, rather than scrambling to find a spot and all of the stuff to do it now… which is why we practice so infrequently.  I miss having the space for this.  I had space at the last house I lived in, but not in the house I bought with Rob.  And I have missed it so much.

So what does an apartment mean?  No more Lizzy.  She’d have to go.  And being that we live in Iowa, she would probably go to the pound, and more than likely be destroyed.  This is not a friendly state for pit bulls.  No more private washer and dryer.  The horrible laundromat - that terrible place I have been barely tolerating for the past month because I know that soon - oh so soon - my washer and dryer will be connected in the house and I won’t have to go there anymore… that laundromat is now a weekly visit.  For 5 years.  An apartment means limited space. Even if we had 3 bedrooms, which I could hardly justify the extra money for… It would still mean one room for us, one room for the office, and one room for the futon/spare room.  No place for a treadmill.  No place for yoga.  No place for reading room.  No place to practice our faith.  No place for the coffee pot, other than the kitchen counter, which, knowing us, would be buried in about 37 seconds.  The entire year we lived in our last house, I made a grand total of 4 pots of coffee, because in order to get to the coffee pot, it required 45 minutes to clean the kitchen first just to find the damn thing.  Given the small area most apartments have for dining room, I would probably have to give up my mother’s dining room table, chairs and china cabinet.  No storage space to put holiday decorations, which I guess doesn’t matter, because as cramped as we’ll be, it would only be an inconvenience to have the decorations out anyway.

It is too much.  I do not think I can take this huge leap backwards.  I am not a kid anymore.  I can’t be happy with cinder block and plywood bookshelves and milk crate end tables and a folding card table and chairs for a dining room set.  I can’t be happy living under someone who thinks that moving furniture at 3am is the perfect weeknight activity.  Or thin walls that let me hear every argument and sexual act of my neighbors, or stolen parking spaces, or people who think it’s perfectly acceptable to leave bags of garbage in the walkway overnight (or over weeks).

I am a snob.  I will admit it, I suppose.  I don’t like hanging around laundromats and apartment complexes.  I don’t like being around people who think it’s not only acceptable, but fun to sit on someone else’s car drinking a 40 and smoking like a chimney.  I don’t like going places where people think it’s ok to leave their trash on the counters, and if they spill something there’s no need to wipe it up.  I don’t want to live like that.

What are my options?  I can’t think of a good one.  Make my husband miserable by dealing with his horrible mother for months or more so that I can have the home I want, or make myself miserable by getting rid of everything I love but him to live in some shit hole apartment in the middle of nowhere, Iowa.

It has been a really long time since I have watched such a critically acclaimed movie that I REALLY didn’t like.  There Will Be Blood was one of them.

The main irritation:  The sound.

The first 10 minutes, not a word is spoken.  Ok, I get it when he’s all by himself.  But once he has a crew around him, I was ready to scream watching them all give each other meaningful glances and hand gestures.  SPEAK, DAMN IT!  What the heck is going on?

Then the music.  I have never in my entire life watched a movie with a more distracting score.  During the big fire scene, I have NO idea what ANYONE said, and almost no idea what was happening.  The thumping of the drum was so distracting that I could pay attention to nothing else.  and it just kept getting louder, and it went on forever!  I very nearly shut the movie off at that scene.  I was agitated and frustrated.  I couldn’t turn the sound down because I couldn’t hear what the people were saying, but the music was crazy-making!  And what’s with the dramatic “something bad is about to happen” music through the ENTIRE movie?  The entire movie filled me with a sense of dread.  Every person on the screen I assumed was a villain because of the music accompanying their entrance into the plot.  Wide open field shots of guys riding horses, accompanied by this music that says “any minute, a bomb will go off, or someone will get shot, or an earthquake will swallow the entire cast!” plays.

I HATED this movie.  I wonder if they had added one single line of dialog during the first drilling scene and had scored the soundtrack differently, if I would have loved it.  The story was interesting.  The acting was good.  Effects were well done.  Beautiful cinematography.  My dislike of this movie was brought on 100% by the sound.

One upshot… as always, Daniel Day Lewis was outstanding.  I have never seen him in a movie that I didn’t think he played the part to perfection, and this was no exception.  Really a fantastic actor.  The things he does with his voice… even his regular speech is like singing. He’s just spectacular.

So, it turns out my guess yesterday was totally right on.  I came home to half a backyard fence!  Hopefully today I will have an entire backyard fence.  The Lizard Dog will be happy about that.  I think she’s sick of being cooped up inside all day.  Last night on her walk she didn’t just walk… she did this cute little jumpy dance thing almost the whole way.

Also, yesterday when I said the “drywall” in the office was ready for paint, I misspoke.  Apparently, the office is still plaster and lathe.  Which I painted last night to disastrous results. First, turns out that “Tumbleweed” looks like a creamy very light tan color on the color swatch, and looks dusty rose pink on the walls.  That will not do.  2nd, it turns out that 90 year old plaster that has been painted, stripped, wallpapered, stripped again and who knows what else… it’s tired.  It feels like it already did it’s job.  It doesn’t really want to be painted again.  And in protest, big pieces of the plaster fall off when the paint roller goes over the wall.  So…. not sure what’s gonna happen with the office.  Obviously, Rob will have to patch the pieces that fell off yesterday.  (I swear, I didn’t hit the wall, I just rolled paint on it.)

And we’re going to have to find a new color of paint.  Tumbleweed was supposed to go up in 2 of the 3 bedrooms and the office… and now that I know it’s pink… we have 3 gallons of paint that we can’t use.  So…. now we have 3 gallons of primer I guess!  ;)  Because it sure as heck is not staying that color.

The saga continues…. We’ll see what happens.