Actual phone conversation from earlier today:

*phone rings*
Me: "Hello?"
Caller: "Is Dottie there?"
Me: "No, I'm sorry you have the wrong number there is no Dottie here."
Caller: "Well this is the last listed number I have for Dottie Lastname."
Me: "From how long ago, we've had this number for six years?"
Caller: "From 1994. How did we spell her name? Was it Dottie L-A-S-T.....?"
Me (interrupting): "I don't know, there is NO Dottie here and I never knew a Dottie!"
Caller: "Sorry then, thank you"
*hang up*

WTF? About 3 years ago I had received these mysterious calls for Dottie, then they stopped for a while. Now we're averaging about one a week. Next time someone calls, I'm going to ask who they are and spell it out that Dottie is not here and apparently she no longer is reachable at this number. If the above conversation is any indication, I may have to speak slowly.

You know what sucks?

Having to remove a good friend off of my blogroll because someone lost their fucking mind and decided to try to mess with my friend's life outside of the internet.

So not cool.

That, my dears is the actual headline, from and actual newspaper* (well, debatable in my opinion), from our town. The most ridiculous of lawsuits has made it's way onto the front page of our local news two days in a row.

Here is the basic summary of what happened.

Girl lends her friend her iPod (freshmen in high school - both girls are 14).

Girl goes to restroom.

Friend returns iPod by putting it on or in girl's desk.

iPod goes missing before girl gets back.

Hysteria Hilarity ensues.

There is a lawsuit involved. Initially dismissed on a technicality, it has been refiled.

Our neighborhood (at least parts of it), could easily be defined as affluent. Living here is wonderful, the high property taxes ensure a standard of living to which I am becoming accustomed. However, some of the residents drive me batshit crazy. Especially those who have apparently lost contact with reality some time ago. Since when does loss of personal electronics result in one party suing the other? Especially 14 year old girls.

Cell phones are not allowed in schools, and the iPods probably shouldn't be either. Not only that, but personal responsibility has been taken out of this case. Just the fact that there was a lawsuit absolves the iPod-owning girl from any responsibility for it. If it were my daughter, I would basically say tough luck. You should have been more responsibile with your belongings. She should not have had it at school, and (if she were my daughter), the only way she would get another one is to get a job and earn the money to buy it herself.

But now, these parents are clogging up the court system with a frivolous lawsuit. And they will settle as long as the cost of court costs gets covered along with the replacement of the iPod and $50 worth of iTunes. Did you catch that? They filed the lawsuit, and now they want their court costs covered. Sometimes, I really hate the residents in my town. These kind of people ruin it for the normal folk.

And the ultimate horror? As "reported" in the "newspaper", this poor girl now has to listen to the radio and not her favorite iTunes.

Good God, how will she survive???

* - This type of story making front page "news" is the main reason why I will not subscribe to this paper. I'm not sure who actually does, considering that once or twice a week we get a free copy of it on our driveway. I usually use it to line the birdcage. It's just the right size.

I really am anti-social I guess.

We went downtown to Navy Pier to see the fireworks, and the humanity that we had to deal with put me in a homicidal mood (my family didn't help a whole lot either). I would have totally enjoyed myself if we were the only ones there, alas, that is not how things work.

The phone rings at 8:30 and I'm told that I need to get moving. I'm meeting my brother & SIL (with kids) and my mom at my parents house. This is the first year I'm joining them for the fireworks "tradition" and apparently, they leave the house by noon. So I get myself and the kids showered (Steve had to work, lucky duck), dressed, and on the way.

We finish getting coolers together (my mom brought three smallish ones, we really only needed one), and we are on our way. The kids all ride together with my brother's family and my mom rides shotgun with me. Dad opts to stay home (smart guy). We get downtown and decide to park to go to lunch at Portillo's instead of just zipping through the drive through. We find an open meter three blocks away and have a perfectly enjoyable lunch. We split into two factions and go find the cars. As I'm pulling out into traffic my mom gives a whoop of surprise that startles me and I nearly crash into a parked car. She was apparently unaware that you need to be, shall we say, an aggressive driver in the Loop. We get to Navy Pier and unload (which I think we shouldn't really have to do, as I feel we have overpacked), and my brother and I park the cars (THIRTY DOLLARS!!!). We go back to the picnic table and settle in.

It's only three o'clock.

My mom and I take the girls to the rides on the pier and let them all ride one ride (FIVE DOLLARS A RIDE!). While my mom is waiting with the two older girls in line, she gets bumped around and nearly tripped by this young boy behind her. He's laughing like a goon. He nearly falls down when he trips my mom and his parents ask him if he's all right. My mom told them that he nearly tripped her and they couldn't have cared less. Anyhoo, after the kids have their five dollar ninety seconds of fun, we go to Starbucks to get frappucinos. Five people behind the counter, I was about 8th in line, and it took about half an hour to get the drinks.

My mood is steadily getting darker.

We sit at the table. It's now around four thirty. We eat, play some cards, the kids play games. Oh, and we are 100 feet from the tent housing the Star Spangled Banner project. Basically, we get to hear people sing the Star Spangled Banner.

50 people.

A capella.

About half of which were surprisingly good. The other half? We shall not speak of. Emily and her cousin got up there to sing though, shocking us all. They didn't know it, but had a lyric sheet, and I'm so proud they tried.

It's starting to get dark, so we take the kids to the bathroom, Emily swears she doesn't have to go. The line for the women's room is 15 people deep or more at all times. They men's room? No line.

We are back at our picnic spot, we find the station for the simulcast of the Grant Park Symphony Orchestra and settle in. The fireworks are starting in about 15 minutes.

A few fires break out in neighboring picnic areas. Which is illegal where we are, and foolishly risky, given the number of small children running around.

Ten minutes to go, and someone shoots off a roman candle. Aerial fireworks are illegal in Illinois. Plus these people let their small daughter hold it while it was going off. Girl was maybe 4 or 5. One distraction and she could wind up pointing it at people. We consider it child endangerment and go to find an officer. The security there was laughable. We can't find anyone. Someone could have been raped or murdered, and no one would have known (or apparently, cared).

The fireworks start, and five minutes in, three bicyclists come, stand right in front of the kids, and have a radio blaring a station that is not the simulcast. The person with the radio was obnoxious, so I thought it wasn't worth the risk to tell him he's harshing my mellow. Another group, within sight of our children is passing the dutchie, and my mood darkens.

I can't fully enjoy the fireworks, because this moron with his bike is totally whistling and shouting for his friends and totally oblivious that others are trying to enjoy the festivities. As soon as the fireworks are over, Emily looks at me and proudly proclaims "Potty Time!".
She says she can't hold it. I'm ready to kill her because we told her to go earlier and she didn't. So I firmly grasp her hand and start swimming upstream to the people leaving the pier. We pass a security officer. On his ATV. With his feet on the handlbars talking to a pretty girl. Good to know he's patrolling the area and keeping an eye on the crowd.

As I try to find my way inside the promenade, I have been shoved and pushed from all directions. People shove their way in front of us. I am trying really, really hard not to shoot my mouth off. Or kill someone.

We find a bathroom that isn't too busy, she does her business and we head back. Everybody in our party is sitting there waiting out the crowd. I'm anxious to get going. I'm not enjoying myself, and not sure the good outweighed the bad throughout the day.

We get to the parking lot, and wait a few minutes until they open Lower Wacker Drive, and I get the hell out of there. We're nearly home while my mom and the others just made it onto the expressway. Thankfully the drive home was quick and uneventful.

I got home, got the kids up to bed, and collapsed on the bed.

Steve and I have begged off joining in this "tradition" for years, and we usually had a convenient, built-in excuse. This year, no such luck. I don't think I'm doing it again. Humanity makes me homicidal. Dealing with people drives me batshit crazy, and I'd rather not do it.

Does that make me a bad person, or just someone protective of her sanity?

• Unpack kids' books and load up the bookcases
  
• Drop Becca off at school
  
• Drink Triple Venti Non-Fat Cinnamon Latte
  
• Enjoy subsequent heart palpatations
  
• Organize linen closet
  
• Finish organizing bathrooms
  
• Pick girls up from school
  
• Unpack box of kitchen miscellaney
  
• Get bedroom furniture placed (with help from Steve)
  
• Eleventy-three loads of laundry (can only be started after 5 pm because otherwise, I'm fighting the workers for space, and God knows I'd rather have them work uninterrupted than have a little thing like no clean clothes come between me and a finished basement)
  
• Talk to FIL about putting rods up in the coat closet (don't even ask)
  
• Start eyeballing the liquor currently residing on the tool bench
  

Hours until moving day: 48
Approximate boxes packed: 85,792

Biology test tonight.

Amy is losing her shit.

What's the first thought you all have when I haven't posted in over a week?
"Is Amy OK? I haven't heard from her in a while?"
"Is Amy dead?"
"Amy must have found a new game to get lost in"

Yep, it would be the third one.

Got myself sucked into the world of Albion in Fable. My favorite Sloth recommended it about a year ago, and I picked it up since it's now on the PC.

As far as fantasy games go, it's a small game, I can get through it in about 20 hours, which is short, but I can play it multiple ways, and my character's look changes on how good or evil I am. I try being evil, but it's not really in my nature, so it's a bit disturbing when I start stealing and killing random people.

Trying to sell this house has been a game in patience. During the week, I am in and out of the house because we'll have a random showing, but over the weekend, when all we want to do is relax, we are usually displaced both days betweek 11am and 6pm. It's paying off, as we have a few people interested, but they are not quite ready to make an offer. We lowered the price a bit and it's brought more people out of the woodwork, which is a good thing.

I have a few beefs though (you knew that was coming). Mostly with my in-laws, who, I must say right off, I love dearly. I pretty much hit the jackpot as we get along great. However (there had to be a however), they took a trip to Bulgaria for a week. Then they decided to extend it another week since they are having a great time. This is all fine and good, for them, but here's where I get a bit irritated. My MIL is our realtor. I imagine it's going to be fairly difficult to negotiate a contract when there is an 8 hour time difference. My FIL is supervising a worker on our "new" house. Said worker doesn't work when FIL is out of town. We currently have a foyer that resembles Beirut, bare wood, beams exposed, wires exposed, plastic curtains up to try to contain the dust. So it's another week delay. If we get a contract, we can expect to close in 2 months. But being that the people who will be submitting an offer are relocating, they may want to bump up the closing, which we have no problem with, as long as our new house renovations (for now) are complete. And round and round we go. I'm nervous enough about moving (I still have those niggling doubts as to whether or not we made the right choice - just fear of the unknown), and this added pressure isn't helping much.

So my trip into the world of fantasy games is in some part a response to the stress. It's escapism, pure and simple, and I'm put into a world where I can control what happens. So much feels up in the air right now. My home is slowing becoming someone elses (since it is practically spotless 24/7, and we can be kicked out for an hour at a moment's notice), our new house is currently uninhabitable, and the stress of everything is eating at me. I'm not sleeping as well, I'm a little testy with all the interruptions, and I just want a contract on our house so we can stop having perfect strangers traipse through and criticise the colors on the walls, the condition of the carpet, the lack of trees in the backyard, and whatever else ridiculous things they can find wrong with the house. Don't get me wrong, I don't take it personally, it's just that, my goodness, what some people expect is outrageous. And we are perfectly willing to jump through a few hoops. Don't like the colors? Give us a contract and we'll paint everything off white. The family room is too long (yes, we got that one, wtf?), sorry can't fix that. The carpet isn't in perfect condition after 5 years? I'll do my best to clean it, but some of the dinginess is just not going to go away, be glad we don't have a dog. You see a few minor things that need fixing? No problem, give us a contract and will put it right. What people don't realize, and the realtors are not doing their job if they don't tell their clients this, but EVERYTHING is negotiable. Hell, we're willing to leave the big screen TV in the basement, just so we don't have to wrestle it back out of there. We barely got it downstairs, getting it upstairs is not going to be any easier. We are flexible, within reason. The house is 15 years old, we have replaced EVERY mechanical component possible (down to the sump pump, and the sewer where it connects to the house), so the workings are all no more than 5 years old. The roof is original, but we've never had leaks and it's got a good 5-10 years left in it. We put in professional landscaping last year, and upgraded this house in a lot of ways.

Just got a call from the realtor whose clients want to submit an offer. He wanted to know how old the roof was and what was going to happen with the paladian window over the entryway (the seals are gone and there is condensation between the glass). Told him about the roof and said the magic words, "We are willing to negotiate on the window". Now submit an offer dammit!

This post will be using small words, as my ability to think clearly has left me.

Steve has been gone since Tuesday. In Amsterdam. At least over the weekend he got me chocolate in Belgium. He didn't say where he was, but wouldn't it be nice if he went to Antwerp to get something for me to replace my wedding ring with? (Oy, the bad grammar in that sentence, sorry).

So, I've been missing him desperately, and keeping this house spotless since it's on the market. Not an easy task with two kids, let me tell you. I spent the weekend with my parents, dealt with Emily getting the stomach flu....on the way home from my parent's house. She was feeling a little icky before we left, so we grabbed a wastebasket for the car. Good move on our part, however, we weren't even halfway home when her stomach finally betrayed her. Driving for 45 minutes with the smell of vomit hanging in the car is not exactly pleasant. Now, I've been feeling a little off the past few days which is causing me to panic because.....

Tomorrow we leave for Orlando and Disney World! I need this vacation SO bad. And my in-laws are going too, so we have built in babysitters. However, preparations need to be made today, and Steve doesn't get in until 6:30 or so. I need to finish laundry, take a break so someone can view the house, take the bird to the vet for boarding, clean his cage, print out boarding information (Southwest Airlines), pack - while trying to put outfits together for the girls, they don't have much in the way of warm weather clothes, try not to freak out every time my stomach grumbles, get the kids to and from school and I'm certain there are about 20 other things I'm currently forgetting.

I will be away from here for the next week, so it will look a lot like this past week has. Little to no posts. When I come back, I'll post pics of Mickey and also some of the new house, since the foyer has been opened up and a balcony has been roughed out.

Brain fog coming back....yawning....tired.....so tired.

I came home from dropping Becca off at school (where she had to be peeled off me - yet again). She's not new at this so I don't know why she's being this way. Anyhow I come home and I hear music. Softly but clearly. I recognize the song but couldn't tell you the artist, etc. etc. I walk to the kitchen and it fades. I open the front door, nothing. Check the basement, nothing. Check my purse (MP3 Player)....nothing. Still hear it vaguely.

Checked to see if anyone was outside with a radio. Nada. No Tv's on, I'm not playing any music on any computer. Radio isn't on.

Weird. It finally faded. Maybe someone was in a car outside. I don't know though. It was very weird.

I started to get scared. I though I was having auditory hallucinations. Given my mental state today, it wouldn't surprise me.

Today, I am not enjoying anything. Not that I'm trying not to, I just don't. I don't enjoy my kids, my house, my life.

I just need to be alone, I need to cry it out, I need a hug, I need my mommy.

I'm having a week where the responsibility of keeping going is crushing me.