Just most days.*
There are so many, many things that are excellent about life right now, layoff and man flu notwithstanding. For example, the kitchen is thisclose to being finished. We've gone from this
Even without trim, drawers, doors, and toe kicks, we can cook properly for people again. We can cook properly for people together, at the same time, with the people in the kitchen with us. That calls for an exclamation mark. Maybe two.
The entryway to our house is no longer the furthest door away from our driveway and smaller than a shower cubicle. Groceries can go from van to counter without buying an oxygen tank and hiring a Sherpa. The kids can get ready for school without standing on top of each other and/or spreading out into the living room. I don't have to walk through tracked in snow to get from the living room to the dining room. That dining room is just a dining room again, instead of a dining room/kitchen (and, for one memorable fortnight - a dining room/kitchen/living room/bedroom.)
The roof is done. The roofers - bless them - are gone, and the hours between eight and five are no longer lived in front of an audience who deserve hot coffee and snacks every three hours. We're very, very close to the final insurance paperwork and the end of an enormous headache that started ten months ago with just a tiny drop of water.
And- like a delicious cherry on top of all of this goodness - it's JANUARY, which means the season of final account reconciliations, expense summaries, 2015 budget work, and 2014 tax preparation is finally here.
The only fly in the ointment is the ongoing layoff and the fact that - as you might have noticed from Pinterest - one of us needs to be on a restricted diet for a little while, which - since you know we're not going to be cooking supper twice - means that we're trying to cook cheaply AND eat things that we don't hate AND that don't have any garlic or onions or sugar or beans or wheat flour or _insert any ingredient you normally cook with here_. FUBAR indeed.
There's not much to complain about, frankly. So I'll just get on with getting over myself, then, okay? Okay.
*I jest, Mom. I'm sure it was just PMS. (Speaking of - is it normal for it to get worse as you get older? Like really worse?)
** I just went for it there. Whoooooo! Living on the edge.