I’m supposed to be Cleaning and Organizing.

Or, really, hiding stuff, that I don’t want other’s to see, while touring the house on Sunday.

Instead, I’ve Biore stripped my nose, which, in my current state of procrastination, has fascinated me to the point of near speechlessness. Started some laundry, because clearly, I cannot do anything if I don’t have clothing for every possible task clean, and finally, eaten about half a row of chocolate chip cookies.

Suffice it to say, I think that running into my neighbors now that the house is officially On The Market has gotten a tad under my skin. I know they mean well, truly, they do, but it’s hard hearing that they’ve been expecting this. Oh, they’re say to see me leave, Jack in particular, but he could have spared me the fact that there was a neighborhood bet to see when I sold going on.

And then he nearly ran Lucy Goose over, on his way past. She was snooping around under his truck. But still.

We walked an extra two miles after that, taking it all in, as I feel like tonight might just be the last night here. It’s not, but it sure feels that way. I tripped over my own nostalgia going up the stairs, into the room that I’d done up for Riley, and then into the one for Hunter; the bath that I hand painted, with frogs, and turtles, just like they both wanted. I won’t be able to do the basement playroom like I had here, and I’ve not had the heart to tell H that yet - he’s just getting over the shock of finding the For Sale sign in the yard.

Frankly, me too.

I think, this calls for more cookies. Not really the best way to handle the stress, the pressure, I know, but a tastey one.

PS. Gauge seems to be On The Mend. He took down four pancakes for dinner, along with his meds, and while his fur (or lack thereof) looks awful, and he’s still itchy, he’s staying a little mroe away from the water bowls. Kisses to all that sent well wishes - that is, big, fat, slobbery ones.