I posted a while back on RTB about how people tell me everything about themselves within ten minutes of meeting me. And without me asking. It totally happened with the movers too. I had one guy telling me he was starting to think about settling down, having a serious relationship and babies but that it was hard to find the right woman. All the while he was packing my precious books, and I told him that he was young and had plenty of time to find a relationship even while I was thinking, but if you screw up my books, you won’t live long enough to ever see one.

So now the two long moving days are over and the three year old (who is officially the four year old, since it just became tomorrow) and I are safely at my parents house. Sent the husband back home since he’s in charge of guarding what’s left inside the house. Which isn’t much. I’m exhausted. I told the contractor I didn’t care what happened – I’d see him at the end of November. He said, I’m getting you back in here in October. I won’t hold my breath, but he seems pretty positive. Especially because I told him, anytime you think the work is slowing down, just remember that I’m living with my parents.

Although their wireless network’s a lot better than mine. So that’s definitely a selling point.

Anyway, my mom’s a nurse. Growing up with a mom as a nurse has really good points and really bad points. The bad is that unless your fever’s over 101 or there’s blood pouring from your body, you can’t stay home from school. Ever. Or get sent home from school. And you can’t just have, for example, a migraine in peace – you’ve got to rate your pain from one to ten. And if she asks, is it better than yesterday? and I say, no, she asks again. And again. And again, until I just say, yes, it’s better, just to stop her from asking, and she gives me a satisifed look like, I thought so. Because nurses don’t believe you. They’re trained to sniff out the fakes.

I still contend that anything over 98.6 degrees is a fever.

So tonight, my back was killing me. My mom says, I’ve got advil for you. I look over by the sink and she’s got the advil in a little plastic cup, the way they dole it out to you in the hospital.

I refuse to rate my pain. I don’t care how many times she asks.

Steph T.