One step forward, three steps backwards.........

Monday.

Our phone has been ringing frequently these past days. Bugs needing her mom and papa.
We're here! She doesn't want our help, she just needs to talk and vent...

I went out with her for an hour yesterday roaming around to look at apartments and townhouses.
I know it's not the step she should be looking at right now, but in a way it was something "fun" and positive. Of course it only lasted a short while until the nasty reality hit her and us again.

The WeBuyUglyHome people called her this morning and told her the house was not eligible to be bought by them. I guess they only take heaps that they pay a few thousand dollars on, flip them and sell them for a huge profit.
I had a feeling that this would be the case.
She was disappointed.
On one hand she doesn't want our help. But she's like a fish out of water, and needs us. So I let her vent, mostly, making also sure she can call us if she wants us to come over and help.

One thing came through loud and clear. She is tired of having to depend on others to live her life. Be it Daddy, or be it us. I understand that.

It just makes me cry from frustration. I hate to see her going through this.
And it's no use saying: I TOLD YOU NOT TO BUY A HOUSE!!!!

Water under the bridge.

I suggested she get busy, physically. Even if it's something like sweeping her front porch, watering her plants. SOMETHING. Don't sit around feeling sorry for yourself.

The kid who was supposed to come and clean up her yard has his phone turned off, and she can't get a hold of him.

What's WITH these kids????

She called the real estate woman who showed her the house, left a message. She also called her mortgage company, had some questions about foreclosure. The person on the phone spoke English badly, and she was transferred to a supervisor, then they hung up on her.

So very very helpful.

I told her to please keep tossing stuff and start packing. If the bank forecloses on her house they will toss her out and not give her a week or so to get her things out.

A scary thought indeed.

I sure wish I felt more like writing stories about my childhood and such, but at the moment writing these thoughts down is important to me, just to keep things straight in my own head.

My own adrenaline is surging through my body. I tore my bedroom apart, vacuumed under and behind the bed, moved furniture around so I could get under and behind it.
Rearranged my closet and tossed many things, rearranged and reorganized the desk. Dusted, sucked up the spider webs on the ceiling, cleaned out the AC / heater vents....

I've got to stop now. Need to sit and rest for a while.

I had to take one of Wheelie's Ambien last night, as I simply could not quiet my mind. Only took 1/2, that's all it took, we both slept until after 8 this morning. We didn't even finish watching the Olympics last night, went to bed at 9, but couldn't sleep, but we were so damn tired.

Poor Wheelie is staying out of my way, tossing me a frowned glance now and then. He looks like shit.

It must eat him up inside, not to be able to go over there and mow her yard. Something he would have done in a second if he were able.

And so it goes...............

The little one doesn't want to take her nap, she feels the tension, I am sure.

Yesterday she was walking around shaking her little fist in the air, yelling: U! S! A!

:>)

Oma taught her something!!!

SGMKJ!