If I didn’t want to come across as completely crass, then my title for this post would just be a bunch of curse words, all one right after another.  I’m frazzled.  My dissertation is in full-court press time.  We have a big trip coming up and DH keeps telling me “we’ll figure it out when we get there” which offends my planning sensibilities.  My house is a mess.


I can’t find some paperwork that I need to finish up all the foster care stuff. I had it in March. I know it’s in this house SOME WHERE. SOME PLACE.  So, I’ve been looking at Every Single Piece of Paper in my entire house.

I teach English.  My DH is a packrat. I’m also a full-time student.  Can you imagine how many pieces of paper are in my house?

It’s driving me crazy, maybe even more crazy than Clomid mixed with PIO mixed with DHEA.

4 thoughts on “#*^@#&@%*^$@^#@*#^*@#^

  1. Oh, man. I hate that. I have so many piles of papers/books/magazines in my house, and I think I know where everything is within those piles, but if I actually had to find something, I’d be screwed. I hope you find it. And enjoy your trip!

  2. Oh, I feel you on the massive amount of paper. We have gradually gotten better about this over the years, but there was a time when we referred to the stacks of paper as “dunes” and treated them as though they were just deposited there by the sea and the wind….

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