You wouldn't know it by the state of my apartment, which is in complete shambles. I was supposed to really get a lot of packing done today, but I had two articles to write and a feature to finish. Then I ate two cinnamon rolls. Now I am nodding off.
The last week has been stressful to say the least. We found out a week ago that my mom had to have open heart surgery. She needed a valve replaced. They went in and told her she had the "heart of a 30 year old." She's quite proud of that. I'm quite proud that she didn't even have to spend one night in the ICU and was released 3 days after her major surgery. Everyone at the hospital was apparently calling her "Wonder Woman." I'm also proud that my sister and her husband didn't collectively decide to feed themselves to the alligators in the lake by the hospital, as they were dealing with all this stress by themselves. That's the bummer of having your family disbursed throughout the land.
I'm still having mixed feelings about leaving Brooklyn, but the 20 degree weather is helping. So are the smells coming from my apartment building. Last night my husband and I woke up convinced our hoarder neighbor decided to burn the building down. He didn't - he just decided to cook chicken at 3am in a pan I am convinced has never been washed because it smells like old food, shoes and fire every fucking time he makes a meal.
I just Googled "shoes frying in a pan" and this came up. The Internet is truly amazing.
Fuck you.
which basically sums up all the reasons I don't want to raise my child in Brooklyn. It's a fourteen dollar parenting magazine that has "farm to table" recipes and photo shoots with $300 bags. Get me out of here.
Okay, so I'm a little grumpy today. I'm seven months pregnant and getting on a plane next week with my toddler, cat, husband and fetus.
I'm also having a serious come-down off the cinnamon roll high that inspired me to write a little something today.
Bye.
