The Money Pit

NOTHING is where I need it to be. Getting dressed, cooking, washing dishes, taking a shower, opening wine … every mundane activity has become worthy of a Survivor challenge because something germane to every task is always at the OTHER house. Doesn’t matter which house I’m in at the time—mine or The Money Pit—something I need is not where I am.

A couple nights ago we stood around my kitchen trying to figure out a creative way to open a wine bottle since ALL FOUR CORKSCREWS somehow managed to end up at The Money Pit. I finally had to bribe my burger-addicted daughter with drive-through money so she would retrieve one of them for us. MacGyver, himself, couldn’t find enough supplies at either house to make it through 24 hours of basic daily living.

I’ve washed my hair with Rush’s shampoo. Went walking at the park in socks and sandals in sub-freezing temperatures—I still don’t know where my $#@% tennis shoes are. Scrambled eggs with olive oil and kept pasta from sticking to itself with butter. Used my seeing-eye-daughter (rather than my eye glasses) to read texts and medicine bottles. Washed dishes with hand soap. Scraped my frosty windshield with a folded up McDonald’s drink lid. Baked pizza on a pan fashioned from tinfoil. Sigh …

But this weekend Amelia will return to her college dorm and Rush and I will finally make the official move to The Money Pit. Because my house is on the market and needs to remain “staged” for showings, it may be a few months before ALL our belongings finally end up under one roof, but just living with our clothing, dishes, utensils, linens, cleaning supplies and toiletries all in one place will seem like an unimaginable luxury.

If you completed a household chore or a personal care activity today and didn’t once scream: “$%@#! My _____ is at the other house!” then I aspire to be you!