Been a rough week. After our day at Seattle Childrens Abby came down with a 103.5 degree fever. There was blood in her poo. Another trip to another doctor and it turns out that she’s just got massive constipation (yet another fun side affect of having designer genes) and a nasty cold. Still. I had already felt like my soul had been rung out. Like I was at the end of my rope. Then I go into our downstairs bathroom and look up.
Meaning that the $500 and hours and hours of work that we put into renovating the upstairs bathroom LAST YEAR is all for not. Casey bathes EVERY day. It’s his thing. He also splashes. A LOT. No amount of cleaning it up right after will get everything. Couple that with the fact that NOTHING dries here because of the humidity and you’ve got some rotted floor. So we redid the floor down to the freaking STUDS. Used mold resistant EVERYTHING. Sealed the flooring off COMPLETELY. Or so we thought.
I’m done. I can’t take it any more. I don’t know why I feel like when things get hard in one area, everything ELSE should be easy. But at the end of the day I’m still fat, my floor is still rotting out, I still have to do laundry, I still lost the freaking $100 check that my grandfather sent us for Christmas, etc. If someone dares tells me it could be worse (because, come on, it always could be worse) I’m going to burn their house down.
How’s that for a happy Sunday spiritual post?