There’s a decorative, non-seasonal wreath on my front door, and a purple mum in the ceramic planter on the front step. Curb appeal, you know.
Our realtor said she wanted me to paint the front door, but I told her that was more than I could handle right now. I figure the wreath shows that I at least made an effort.
The kitchen is cleaner than it’s been since we moved in.
All of the kids’ toys have been moved out of the living room and family room, and we’ve turned the bonus room upstairs (previously Dave’s office) into a giant playroom.
And now, we wait to see if somebody comes along who falls in love with this house as much as I did two years ago.
(And I am not telling them about the Bad Divorce Juju happening in this house, because, well, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t fall within disclosure requirements.)
Now I can go back to focusing on these two.
My sweet Catie-bug. She keeps having nightmares and waking up at 3 a.m. This transition is so hard on her, and I do my best to reassure her, but it’s not enough. I don’t know what to do for her, except to keep telling her that we’re going to be ok.
Next on my to-do list: find a statue of Saint Joseph and bury him in the yard. I’ll take all the help I can get.