And while heavily sedated too. ZZZZZZZZZ
I’m currently downstairs with our futon and sleeper sofa all in the nigh time sleeping party position. Lounging about me is Sam, Max and Jack. Noah and Scott are too cool for this party. It’s okay, I tell myself they’re too loud and smelly for this party and they can just stay right upstairs.
On my walk,um, crutch to the bathroom, I decided I needed to do a blogpost documenting my breaks, and the move. So here goes. May 1, 7:40 am, walking into work. it had rained the night before which made precarious little potholes all through the parking long at work. No worries. i had my rain boots on and my pants rolled up and just strolled right on through the puddle like a boss. The problem came in that at the bottom of the puddle was a divot or shallow hole where once upon a time, fuel oil had been pumped under ground. Anyway, I stepped right into that jerk of a hole as I was walking into work and fell over. I felt like I had sprained my left foot and possibly broken something on the right. Both pants knees were torn, hands were scuffed form the fall. I made it into the building, stepping over the threshold with my left foot leading ,felt and internally hear a pop, and with that dramatically yelled out and fell over. Let the waterworks begin. This was a Friday, and as I’ve already mentioned the first of the month, meaning it was going to be a very busy day. I apologized profusely but wouldn’t be able to work and could someone call my husband please. He arrived in no time, a knight in shining armor (a rain jacket) and he picked me up, like literally squatted down and picked me up (swoon), got me into the van and back home where we promptly called the doctors office and said we’re coming in hot! I changed out of my wet and torn pans into some stretchy house pants and off we went. The whole time thinking the left was sprained and right was broken and putting weight on the left accordingly. OOPS.
It turns out it was the left that had a bone up in the foot that decided to break, and looking back I see it was that POP that I’d heard and felt as I stepped right into the door of work. The right foot was “only” badly sprained. I was splinted up and sent home and told to follow up with Dr. Deafenbaugh (our areas ONLY orthopedic guy) on Monday. That splint was miserable and that was a miserable and painful weekend. Finally Monday rolls around, Dr. D gets me right in, does a second X ray and some other kind of scan and says a simple “boot” cast will do the trick, that and stay off of it for six weeks. This is all workmans comp, so I figure I’ll stay home and “enjoy” summer a little bit more than if I’d been at work the scheduled 30 hour week.
A few weeks into May our landlord rung up, asking for a meeting. This has happened a few times before and usually ends in us getting fussed at for not doing things we were never told to do, or for him asking us for money for repairs, kind of crazy, but I won’t get into that now. This particular meeting was to talk about him wanting to sell the house. Keeping in mind that HE had insisted in a three year lease, which wouldn’t expire until June of 2016, He wanted to see how we’d feel about moving out. In his “ideal world” we would move out in 60 days. The house is a summer house, it would show better that way, yada yada yada. So we explain that we don’t have it in our budget to move out and that we will discuss this and get back to him. After a few days Scott has compiled a list of “concessions” if you will, that the landlord would have to take in order for us to break the lease and move out in 60 days. He sends it to him via email. Crickets. We don’t hear anything back for about a week. Then early June the landlord finally emails his agreement to our requirements, and asks for a walk through of the house, I guess to get mentally an idea what he’ll need to do to get the house market ready. So he comes for this “walk through” about June 12 and as he’s standing there, he says “what would it take for you guys to be out by the end of this month?” I reply “as in 19 days from now?”
We hadn’t been packing or anything other than sorting because when we didn’t hear back from him, we figured he had changed his tune, that he didn’t want us out that bad to essentially pay us off. So he springs this 18 days business on me, i say this “fine, in addition to all the other things you and Scott have agreed on, I’d like movers and a truck on moving day. If I had time and a healed foot we could make this move in 60 days, but you want to bump it up to 19 days from now I want a couple of guys and a moving truck. Your money, you pick.” He walked away and again it was quiet. Finally later that evening he agreed. So we had about 18 days from “go” to moving day to get that house packed up. I don’t know how we did it but we did it. Basically I sat in a room surrounded by boxes and the boys all brought everything down out of the attic and closets and we starting boxing things up. It was a mess, but at this point I was ready to leave the dream home. We put in an application to rent a house back in the woods, waited and waited on that and it was turned down in lieu of a single woman. Then we were green lighted for a smallish ugly house and that application approved, a little over what we wanted to pay but still less than our current water home/winter disaster. Finally our agent encouraged us to put an application in on what she was calling “Painter Farm”. there was already an application in, and the landlord would be meeting those people on a saturday but we could come by and meet him as well. The applicants who had dibs, never showed up so we got to meet him. He was (and is) a very nice gentleman. He reminds me of my brother in law Nathan, you know the busy, smart type that can’t sit still for a minute. Anyway, we quickly had the lease drawn up, this time for two year (so they could take it off the market) with an optional clause that if either parties isn’t pleased, at one year the lease can be terminated. I thought that was interesting to ask for a two year lease, and then put in that clause. I really hope the landlord doesn’t decide to act on it. We like this house a lot. I’ll write more later about the move, the rest of the summer and my second break. I think my typing is waking up my munchkins. And that’s my fancy “boot” that I got to wear for 6 weeks as I stayed off my foot. This picture was taken on the 17 of June, the first official day I could start walking on the boot. I forgot to mention that Geri and her crew had already had a scheduled visit from June 12-17. We took a break from packing and hung out with our friends. Last water house visit. She did get to see Painter Farm with me and was very encouraging about this house not being too “fancy” for our family, and also very prayerful on the whole matter.