It's a Hard Knock Life...

I don't consider myself a big crier, or someone who gets stressed out very easily. I can probably count on both hands the number of times I have recognized being "stressed out" in my life. The last 2 houses that we have built would probably account for five to seven of those times, which is part of the reason we decided never to build again, yet here we are.

On our last house, Dave and I did an incredible amount of the work, although we are not very compatible in our construction styles. He is a perfectionist. For example, all the screws are pointing the same direction and you could put a level to them and they would be even. I, on the other hand, tend to believe in the "good enough, for who it's for" route. At one point in our last house, Dave was yelling out measurements for the stair treads, like 17 3/4 or whatever. I would find the 17, and then add a little and cut the board, good enough. After the second board was way off, I think we hollered loud enough at each other, that it got the neighbors a little worried. Eventually, the issue boiled down to me not being very good with fractions, so I stopped crying and swearing, and Dave ended up giving me the measurements in 16ths, like 17 and 15/16ths. That way I could count the tiny little lines, and it all worked out.

This house has been a little different. I have not been as hands on with this house, mostly because we have kids now and we learned from the last time. However, this house is driving me insane, and I noticed today that I am officially stressed out. The signs were vague, but by the time it was noon and I had already cried 4 times, I figured it out. I am not a crier. I only cry over a few things like, when I am super pissed off, if I see running horses, and when I am really tired. I didn't even cry when Dave proposed to me. I think it went something like this. Dave:" Will you marry me?" Me:"Ooh, I think I am going to cry." Dave:"No you're not." Me:"Oh yeah, I'm not."

Anyway, first thing this morning, the dryer officially died. Now, I own three dryers, and I am still going to have to go to the frickin' laundromat. When we moved into this dreaded rental, they only had an electric hook-up, so we bought a used electric dryer. It has been a nightmare, and after it wouldn't work this morning, even after I turned the breaker off and on, and tilted it to one side and all the other tricks we have had to do to get it to run. I kicked the crap out of it, and sat down and cried. I might be stressed out.

My next move was a beeline to the Chevron, for an enormous Diet Coke. I guarantee, if I drank any alcohol at all, I would be an alcoholic. I am constantly drowning my sorrows in perfectly proportioned Cherry Coke to Diet Coke fountain goodness. After loading up Emma and Dyl, I pulled out onto Main Street and watched in my rear view mirror as my delicious Diet Coke fell off the top of my car and ran all the way down my windows. I pulled back into the parking lot and cried. I might be stressed out.

Driving over to Park City for some retail therapy, I was half listening to Annie, the movie my kids are currently obsessed with, and when Daddy Warbucks, decided to adopt Annie, I lost it again. I was sobbing like a baby. Usually when they watch that show, I just fantasize about getting my hands on some little cleaning orphans who could make my house shine like the top of the Chrysler Building. But not today, I think I am stressed out.

Thank goodness for my SIL, DeAnn. We went to lunch at Don Pedro's which pretty much cures anything, and although I still have 3 weeks left before my house is done, I have a lot to be grateful for, and I realized I need to just pull myself together.