The unofficial start of fall...already

Back to school today, which is the unofficial start of fall. Feels like summer, though, with the late season heat and humidity. 

Yes, the "fleas" came home last Thursday. Took me all of three hours of listening to the girl pound through their carpet-less unit before I wanted to commit a violent act. Mercifully, they went somewhere Sunday, came back yesterday at 3:45PM. Had to listen to the constant pounding of the girl's and mother's footsteps, down and up their basement steps (basement is finished, they spend a lot of time down there), and through the rest of the house, till oh, 9 PM or so. You can hear and feel the vibrations through the whole house. Can't stand it. I'll be lucky if I don't snap sometime during the next ten months, and I mean that quite sincerely. All I can think is that if I do snap and am arrested, they'll be the ones who are pitied and who will have "won". Better I should do my best to hang on and hang in, try to pay down some debt and see what I can do in a few years' time, when my mortgage is up for renewal. Because I need--need, with every fibre of my being--to have my home as my haven. Goddess knows, work certainly isn't anymore, nor is my townhouse when they're all in residence.

Enough of them.

 

It's Frosh Week here on campus, but I'm not hearing any chanting yet. Normally they start very early in the morning, crowds gathering everywhere, blocking intersections and building entrances, but as of 9:30 AM, there's not a peep to be heard. Maybe everyone is too hung over and is getting a slow start.

Everything else is the same, I think. Boys are okay, though Nicki was coughing a couple of times yesterday, so I dosed him after 24 hours (again) instead of my preferred 36 hours. Time of year, maybe. I'm trying to accept his need for the Pred, because hey, he has to breath.

Dad will be here on the 19th. I actually took all the old paint cans out of the guest room closet over the weekend, put them in the garage. Took me only 8 months to do it.

Isn't that awful? I was 36 when my ex and I bought this place and till about oh, 42 - 43, I had the interest and motivation to do "stuff" in the house. Not any longer, I don't seem to care about even the simplest things anymore, like disposing of paint cans. There's a big difference in how I feel at 50 versus 36! LOL.

Anyway, I'd better get back to work. I was in the middle of something, but alas my own attention span is that of a flea. 

Peace.