Busiest Week Ever

We haven't dropped off the face of the earth, but I don't know how capable I am of giving an adequate update, either. The main points are these: 1.) Monday, we closed on the purchase of our new house. 2.) Tuesday, the movers a.) couldn't fit everything onto their truck and b.) requested custom-made Subway sandwiches for lunch and c.) got exactly what they asked for due to my ulterior and insane motive of being completely moved in and settled by my return to work next Monday and the resulting necessity that the movers not leave the vicinity of the truck(s) or our house. 3.) Also Tuesday, my mother-in-law asked me as she walked through our newly built bigger house if it "felt like getting out of prison" to be here, and since she was agreeing to sacrifice her sanity and watch our kids all day while we moved in and unpacked, I just let the remark go and assumed outwardly that she meant only to compliment our new house, not insult our old one, the one we'd lived in for eight years and the one we'd completely transformed since moving in. 4.) Wednesday, after spending the previous day and night unpacking and prepping the kids' rooms, I temporarily returned to work for mandatory training (weee!). John stayed home and let the cable company in - something that should have taken an hour or two, but actually sent him into a time warp, or a fourth (fifth?) dimension from where he did not return until well after I arrived home from work to find our new house entangled in countless multi-size and multi-color wires. 5.) Thursday, we closed on the sale of our old house, then breathed a collective sigh of relief that our real estate experience was ending fairly painlessly. We're still in legitimate shock over that one, actually. 6.) Friday, as the pile of empty boxes grew and our attempts at personal hygiene and patience sorely diminished, the kids' constant demands for "commercials" (their term for cartoons) resulting from the newly "installed" cable (and by installed, I mean "punched into our walls and then knotted into oblivion on a visible and reachable shelf in Quinn's closet") pushed us into some realm of dysfunction typically occupied by Jerry Springer guests. The kids ended up outside riding bikes on the back patio, screaming at one another and then being screamed at by us to - what? - stop screaming, obviously.

There is more to say (as always), but my eyelids feel like thick, heavy sandpaper, and I think I now understand why they say sleep is some sort of requirement or serious recommendation for good health, or survival, or whatever.