Squatting

I'm in my house, packing away, cleaning to the best of my ability (which is not great), without a toilet! Thankfully, I was able to pop in to the neighbours to use the facilities, because I wasn't really up to squatting over a cup and dumping it down the drain in the basement.

I came over early, by 7:30 am, and the contractor was already in my house. I tried to address a number of things on the list I compiled at 3:00 am - the fact that my garage door is on the blink, the plugged to over-flowing washtub, the fact that there is no tiling the bathroom!! I am a little bit edgy, because when I googled the contractor's name, it came up through the BBB website with an F rating! Yikes. I do not have time to waste and . . . the guy isn't even working here today. I've been here since 9:00 am with A (she's playing happily with the girl across the street) and he hasn't returned.

Meanwhile, tomorrow is E and his son's 40th Birthday. I have to buy presents. I'm broke, too, so that may be hard. Anyway, the bigger stress is going out to dinner with his ex-wife, her increasingly estranged current husband, his daughter, and their mutual love child. I have to drive the ex-wife home because there is no way I'm letting E do it because this will only give her time to cry on his shoulder about her current husband and I want him to have no part of that.

Oh, the complications. Problem is . . . with this rental, I'll have no place to hide if I'm overwhelmed, and I'm terrrified.

For now, I'll try to let it all sink in as I pack, clean, and resist squatting in my once-beloved home.