The Good, The Bad, The Unfucking Bearable

The Good
The house is ours. The keys are in my pocket. We've dusted and cleaned the first floor. Lucas loves it he runs back and forth from window to window looking out... very very happy. Some of the rooms are a bit smaller than we thought, some bigger. All are nice. We're like 95% packed and we'll be done by tomorrow. Some stuff I've made teh decision that we are not going to formally pack. Like plates and such. It's only two blocks and we'll just load them in a box with handles and then take them over in the trunk of someone's car. Ohter stuff we have to pack still, Chris's files etc. Oh, and the weather is looking up for the move tomorrow.

The Bad
We have to move. I hate moving. We own too much stuff. There are days when being some kind of monk appeals to me (as long as I can have my Mac and iPod).

The Unfucking Bearable
Pookie's ultrasound confirmed that there is a tumour. In the wall of her stomach. Her blood is so wonky that they couldn't do a needle biopsy and surgury is out of the question. Basically she needs to be force fed (she won't eat otherwise), hydrated at the vet and given a vitamin to get her liver function under control before they can even test to see if it's cancer. Which is to say she is in pain, and won't eat or drink, and just lies in the corner hiding behind a plant. Which is to say we're all crying because we know what must be done. I have to say at this point that if this is (the) g_d(s) testing us that I would prefer (s)he would send the SATs.. or mb a nice reading comprehension thingy... if this is is (the) g_d(s) getting back at me for something I'd like it if (s)he would stop being such a fucking coward and strap on his/her sword/lightening bolts/war hammers etc and come on down and fight like a man/woman/diety. I'm guessing (s)he knows where I'm at.