Sundays are Depressing

Imagine living out of a suitcase for six months. Welcome to my life.

Every Sunday I pack up my clothes for the week, my kids' clothes, my lesson plans, all the papers I graded over the weekend, and my dog and drive for forty-five minutes to mom's house to start the week. And don't get me wrong, mom and dad have been wonderful about the whole thing. It can't be easy having your grown daughter, her two rambunctious boys, and her giant smelly lab move in and take over the house, but they've been very accommodating. I'm very grateful that I don't have to make that long commute every morning with both kids. But it still sucks not being in my own house.

This wasn't supposed to be long-term. Like for the whole freakin' school year. The plan was to camp at mom's until our house sold--which we were certain would happen very quickly. Yeah, right. Stupid economy. Stupid recession. Stupid housing market tanking. Now that Dan's company liquidated (stupid bankruptcy) we're not even trying to sell the house. What would be the point? We can't buy a comparable house up there on just my income and we don't have any idea where we'll be living next year. It all depends on Dan's new job--whatever that's going to be.

Meanwhile, I'm filling out magnet school applications for the boys for next year in two different counties. I'm trying to pull my weight at mom's house, but continuing to rely on her WAY too much for laundry and dinner. I'm missing my husband like crazy. I miss my friends in Smyrna and I don't have any friends in Hendersonville because I'm always working. And I'm getting fatter every day because I don't exercise when I'm up there because my treadmill is in Smyrna. Not that I used it this weekend or anything, but still.

So, in summary, I'm whining. Yes I know there are people who have it much worse than I do and I'm lucky my parents are helping and I'm lucky just to have a job. I get all that. But right now I'm having a little pity party and I brought my own whine.

Wah.