The kids have exactly 9 school days left. One of those days includes a meeting to get an IEP for speech to carry with us to the next duty station because our current school waited too long in the school year to actuallyDO anything except evaluate and schedule meetings.
I have 22 days available to me to get ready for this move. Stretch will manage to be gone for a number of those days, not including his normal work days.
We still don't know for sure where we will live on the other end of this move. But there's a real possibility that we'll need to put most of our things into storage, so that will affect organization.
On top of all that, I have realtors calling me almost everydaywanting to show the house we are currently renting. To say that I'm feeling a tad stressed would be a major understatement.
And now we come to the straw that broke the camel's back. My washing machine is 12 years old but when you factor in the number of times we've moved it and abused it, it's actual age might be closer to 17. Last week, it developed a quirk, to put it kindly. I either had to sit on it or bang it like the Fonz and then shimmy a heavy box of books into just the right spot to get it to complete its cycles and drain. Oh, and if at any point I let up the pressure, it would stop and the process had to be started all over again. It was a pain but it worked.
Today, Murphy stepped it up a notch. The usual tricks didn't work so I thought I would jiggle the thingabob to get it into the right position. Um. Yeah. I think it's broken and needs to be replaced now. Oh, and it turns out to be an electrical issue.
Oh, and by the way, I had a large load of laundry sitting in soapy water. So I had to dive elbow-deep into the water to retrieve the clothes, rinse them and wring them out by hand.
Because I had nothing better to do today.