The east coast got pummeled with snow this weekend, including my town, just outside of Baltimore. My house had been spanked by Mother Nature in 2010 and was fully repaired and ready to rock. It was without a care in the world that I readied my supplies and hunkered down with my husband Loxy, our assorted animals as we awaited the snow. As it finally began to fall that Friday afternoon, I hadn't a care in the world. I awoke to a beautiful wintry scene. My Saturday went a little like this:
Snow! It's so pretty!Yeah!
Check in with people.
Chelsea Handler Doc Series.(Good, except for the 4th one.)
Check on people.
Pure bliss. Saturday became Sunday and Sunday was about shoveling. Which no one likes, but at least I got extra FitPoints to cover the cookies I made last night.
We then heard the familiar sound of water dripping somewhere inside the house.
|This is the car of the guy who painted the ceiling. The work looked beautiful and I saw no Faygo.|
Now, I'm not sure if we would have been friends back during the blizzard of 2010, but that storm kicked my sweet, little house's ass. In a really ugly way. Let's just say we hired our own claims adjuster to handle the process, because it was a lot to deal with. We lived in one bedroom for a summer, with our of our belongings in a Pod thingy in the front yard. With six animals. It was amazing time of personal growth for all of us. Which is why you can see how the idea of needing more house repairs after that is horrifying.
But back to what's happening right now, in the story.
Loxy and I froze, realizing what must be done. The house was clearly built on the remains of some ancient burial ground. Clearly, we had to move. NOTHING ELSE WOULD MAKE SENSE. After all we've been through already, this is the only explanation I can possibly even entertain.
Really, it's the only explanation for why water was leaking in my house, again. After all of the repairs and love* we've put into this house, it clearly hates us. We can do nothing to please it. I don't know if the ghost czar of this house hates ex-red heads, neutered dogs, cats in dresses or Jews, but anyway you slice it, sour ground is the only thing that makes sense. And I can't handle sour ground stuff right now. Seriously. I. Can't.
But earlier in the day, before we found out that our little happy home was doomed, I had taken this photo. Ironic, right?
Sour ground or not, since I took the photo, here are my thoughts. I really like this cream. It makes my skin feel hydrated and healthy. I had no idea how dry my skin was until Butter Drench Restorative Rich Cream, now that I think about it. If you have really dry skin, like really dry skin, then try this. Seriously, if you're skin isn't ouchie-dry, then you have no business using this. Try this one, the Bare Haven Essential Moisturizing Soft Cream instead. But if you have dry skin, you'll love it. Use it with the Vital Power Infusion, too. Together, it's magical.
See? The ground's gone bad. It's the only explanation that just makes sense. I suppose not having really dry skin while I fight with more contractors and insurance companies is a bright side. At least my skin will be soft and supple while I curl in a ball and pretend my house isn't trying to kill me. That's something, right?
*we didn't do any repairs, personally. We only used pros (for the repairs). We provided the love. (Without any pros.) Why is this so complicated to explain?
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