Running off to Oklahoma

Man, am I overdosed on HOUSE. Even though most of the work was done by others, the work I did was enough to exhaust me.

I found a new bedspread, lovely and expensive, and I've already had to wipe dog drool off it. Really, there is no point trying to be clean around a drooly old boxer. I'm sure it's on the curtains also, which I hung at great cost in time and stress.

Every time I walk across the floor, even though it's just been cleaned, I find something to pick up or wipe off -- drool drops, clump of hair and dust, unidentifiable bits of whatever -- and I have to pick up doggie doo-doo from the yard before I leave tomorrow. I only pick up doggie doo-doo when we are out in public. In my mind, the yard belongs to the dog and his doo-doo, and I do not interfere in the relationship. I resent having to clean the yard of dogshit just so strangers can walk around in my grass and not go "Eeeww!"

The realtor took photos today. The painter/handyguy will come and do some more stuff while I am gone. I want out of here. I am so sick of feeling paranoid about clean. I can't wait to get to my cousin's cluttery house so I can relax.

I had a nap after the realtor left, in the middle of the day, which leaves me disoriented. Then I watched "Lost," a time-travel episode, and I got even more disoriented. Now I'm listening to new age relaxation music and finding myself. Any minute now I will start packing.