Our landlord wants his house back so we’re hunting for rentals.
We’d been looking to buy, too, but can’t find a rental with less than a year’s lease, and can’t buy a house (because of ordinary waiting/processing time of each step) in less than our remaining time at this house, so we’re looking to rent. Again. I am so done with renting.
Right now the rental market is such that maybe one or two houses per day, on average, pop up that meets our needs. (Must allow dogs — and we search for anything that doesn’t specify “no pets” — and be near work and/or useful public transit for Casey and Audrey, must have a backyard that’s fenced and not mostly concrete, must have at least four bedrooms with at least one but preferably two downstairs.)
So I’m packing, and house-searching, and trying to keep up with Owen and be a good Mom while Casey job-hunts (bad time to be between jobs) and Audrey is in a super-busy time at work and has little free time.
So this week was a bad week to injure my shoulder badly enough that it’s best if I keep it in a sling when I’m not flat in bed. My left arm is, in fact, maybe 10% as useful as usual. (No, I’m not going into how I injured it. It was not an interesting injury, was a very basic movement doing a very basic activity, but not something one discusses on blogs.)
Oh, and because of my rheumatoid arthritis doing a job on my fingers and wrists, I can’t lift more than maybe 5 pounds with one hand, I need another hand, or help, or just not to have a painful shoulder on a slung arm.
It’s one hell of a week.
But because that was all about complaining, I’m going to give you a photo of Owen and the bunny bread his beloved Nina gave him when we ate lunch at Boudin Bakery this week.