Late yesterday afternoon we looked at another house. Before entering, the realtor gave us masks to wear because the house has so much mold.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why must I look at these places? (If I didn’t hate the layout of the place, it might have been The One. For most people the thick black mold is the deterrent and I’m over here like, eh, I don’t like the narrow long rooms.)

Very little freaks me out in a house. Obviously. Things I’m *picky* about is a whole other category, though.


For the past few weeks I’ve been out walking in the mornings. It’s a new experience, living in a place with public parks. Actual parks with a bajillion walking trails, where I am frequently passed by people in far better shape. Last week I was lapped by a woman, full-out running, pushing a toddler in a stroller. A TODDLER.

At some point you just want to gently grab these people, place both hands on the sides of their head and say, you’re done. You can stop running now.

And yes, those are my feet. Heeelllloooo. Beth learned how to make GIFs.

This is my view from the park. It’s terrible. Awful. Who would want to look at that everyday.

In other news, I stayed up ’til 3 in the morning on Thursday, reading a book that I ended up not loving. Then I stayed up ’til 4 irritated about it. You shall hear about it when I do This Month’s Books in a few weeks.

In other other news…*crickets*.

See you later!

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