if i pull my head up, pass me a french fry

If you find yourself lost in reverie, wondering how I'm passing my final days in my cute Burien bungalow, here's a look at two distinct possibilities.

1. I've burrowed my head in denial deep beneath my six pillows and am pretending I'm a renunciate monk living a simple meditative life in the hills of Tibet. In this fantasy I have milky white skin and spend the days meandering through peaceful meadows while bluebirds swirl happily around my head chirping the melody of zippity doo dah. I am barefoot with soft petal pink toenail polish and a long flowing robe with fancy beading which I know defies the whole renunciate thing but it's a FANTASY. There are also chocolate donuts.
   
   Or-
   
   
2. Bolstered by the support of trans fats, caffeine, and encouraging phone calls from my wonderful husband, I am one-by-one tackling the daunting list of below to-do's:

• Find functional dishwasher and stove for basement apartment (Can you believe, I had three different renters who never mentioned the stove and dishwasher do not work? How does this happen?)
• Locate pest inspector person to soothe buyer's concern about rat droppings near sump pump (apparently this guy has never heard of indoor pets)
• Call roofer to fix chimney (I want to know, who builds fires anymore? I have not used this fireplace ONCE since I've owned this house.)
• Find (who?!) to fix fracture in sewer pipe (So turns out when you flush the upstairs toilet a 'mild sewage odor' (is there such a thing?) temporarily fills the basement. Again, hello renters??)
• Find dude to stand on roof and kill moss. Sell house within 15 minutes before moss grows back.
• Ask same dude to clean gutters
• Paint scratches on three doors from demon dogs
• Hire environmental company to remove asbestos tape in heat registers (three families lived here without growing a third ear but, hey, whatever this buyer wants)
• Hire heating company to inspect furnace and clean air ducts
• Beg cousin Danny to fix section of wood floor that demon dogs ruined
• Reserve Penske truck for move
• Pack up the rest of our crap
• Oh yeah, FIND A PLACE TO LIVE for three months
• Rent a truck. Drive four hours to Twisp. Pack up Court's power tools. Drive four hours back to Seattle.
• Borrow another truck. Take junk in backyard to dump. Resist urge to dump everything we own.
• Buy Court's airplane ticket to Seattle.
• Figure out a way to transport two lovable mutts to their new Colorado home (lovable as in 1,200 miles from me).
• Brainstorm ways to manipulate friends into helping move out of house (step 1: post shameless blog detailing overwhelming to-do list. Check!)

Countdown begins.

I'll be relying heavily on french fries to get me through the next 17 days.