So we are in the midst of trying to buy a house right now. The whole process is overwhelming and terrifying for me. It’s a commitment. A monumental commitment to hand over a whole lot of money every month, just to then turn around and put the rest into the care of the same house.

It seems a perpetual money pit. So why do it? Because i want to paint my own walls without having to think about someday painting over the first job. I want to put nails in my walls, damnit! I am a rebel. I want to be able to unabashedly enjoy my own carpet-covered floors.

Oh yes. I am a carpet fan. I am not longer staying quiet about it, either! I LOVE CARPET!! Plush, soft, supportive, comfy carpet. I’m not sure where the new hardwood floors craze has come from, but i am not a fan. We had hardwood floors in Arizona and I was quite surprised to find it was very hard to make them look shiny and clean. For the amount of discomfort, sore feet, aching back they perpetuate, it was not worth it. I’m a barefoot-at-home type and because of that, i love carpeting.

I know some germophobes are not fans. I don’t care.

Right now we are in the Appraisal mode. This means we are waiting to hear back if the bank is agreeing on the insane amount of money we are willing to commit to pay for this home. If they agree, then we’re all insane.

Needless to say, my mind is on other things. Last night i was making dinner and burned the shit out of my finger.

Not just an ‘oops, got too close’. Nope, it was so far out of the left field, i didn’t see it coming. I’ve purposefully burned myself just being a dumbass in the kitchen. Touching a pan. Touching something IN a pan. Just too lazy to reach the six inches over to grab a fork to do it. This time, I heard the water bubbling in two pots. The rear pot was camouflaged against the white stove. When I reached 1/2 an inch above the pot to turn off the burner, the steam shocked the hell out of me, and my finger that caught the full force of the steam.

How do i know i’m a grown up now? I managed to burn myself worse than i ever have, and i didn’t cuss. Not one single four-letter word was uttered. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even yell. I was so surprised and shocked by it. I almost forgot to put it under cold water. I did a lot of lamaze breathing.

THATS how i know a-it hurt like a motha’, and b- i’m now a grown up

I had to finish dinner and get it all to the table. I did this with a wet soggy paper towel wrapped around it.  I still had to take my kid to yoga. The drive to class was excruciating. I didn’t have anything on it because i thought it would get better. It got worse.

By the time I got home I remembered we had aloe to put on it. Just in time to see the blister begin to form.

Anyway… moral of that lesson. When you are too distracted to pay attention to the pots on the stove, it might be time to order in! Mostly so you don’t have to subject your family to the sight of your scalded flesh.

2 thoughts on “Distractions

    1. I kind of regret not making the most of it and swearing like a sailor. On the other hand, i can officially say cussing must help the pain, because holding it in sure didn’t help me !


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