I’m just gonna give it to you straight:
I’ve been one ridiculous, hot mess express, crying-at-the-drop-of-a-hat-Mama today.
Totally weepy.
And honestly, if we’re looking back at the week in its entirety, there have been more bad days than good, and I can’t exactly pinpoint the root cause—though I’m sure the rigors of virtual schooling three tiny people (one of whom has also been a bit emotional this week) hasn’t helped.
So today, I just rolled with the tears.
And even the hubby was slightly amused but mostly sympathetic to my waterworks.
Anywho.
The culmination of my hot mess express-ness happened just before dinnertime, when the hubby got a random call from Dallas, that was meant for someone else.
Wrong number, we assumed, but when he got off the phone, the name sounded familiar to both of us, and a quick google search (scary all the information we have at our fingertips) confirmed that the caller was looking for the gentleman who bought (along with his wife) our McKinney house. Random.
And, subsequently, we discovered that beloved McKinney house of ours is on the market again.
Lemme just say this: nobody should ever accidentally come across a Zillow listing for a house they loved and had to leave in a painful move—and then obsess over every little change.
And nobody should ever, ever do this when they’re already a hot mess express. (Or, maybe it’s the best time to do it, because you’re already spiraling anyway?)
And nobody should ever, ever, ever cap off a heinously emotionally day like this by watching that older movie, Stepmom.
I mean...talk about snot-crying.
Just leaking.
The tears.
All day.
Anywho (again).
Just ‘cause I can (maybe to purge my angst), I’ll share a couple of the when-it-was-our-house/their house pics that hurt the most:
Our House (Little Man’s Bedroom):
Their House:
Our House (Chica’s Bedroom):
Their House:
Our House (Dining Room):
Their House:
In all honesty, the house is still lovely, but it hurts because it isn’t what it was—to us. And it’s sort of sapped of color now (which is totally great, and a person’s individual prerogative). And I guess that’s just hard to reconcile with the oodles of amazing memories we made in that happy house, and I sort of wish I hadn’t seen it.
But...heaven knows, if the people who owned this San Antonio casa of ours before us could see it now, it would probably be uber painful. We gutted the whole, dang thing.
So I suppose the morale of the story is something like this:
Don’t pile emotional things onto already-emotional days.
Or maybe...
When you’re having an emotional day, just go for it and open the floodgates.
But maybe don’t look at pictures of the piano room that used be yours before the current owners stripped your beloved, insanely-gorgeous, green, metallic grasscloth wallpaper from the walls.
And begin again tomorrow.
With a far better attitude, peeps.
Thank FREAKING goodness it’s Friday.
Over and out.
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