As in the TV Show Minus the Cranky Addict Doctor

I have news. To be honest, I'm not sure if anyone out there still reads this blog (feel free to reassure me that I'm wrong) - I know I've been a little absent in the past few weeks, but I'm about to explain why. You see, we bought a house. We're moving.

Tomorrow.

No, it's not as sudden as I'm making it sound. We've been working out the kinks for a good two months, which hasn't been a beautiful, romantic process (loan brokers - I'm not that into you these days) and which, on top of both of us working full-time, has felt pretty much impossible to accomplish. We've been burning the candle at both ends - no Chanukah pun intended - and it's taken a toll on our sanity, I won't lie. Plus, there just hasn't been any Time. For Anything.

So it's been awhile coming, but I didn't give you any hints, didn't say anything about it because Y was paranoid that we wouldn't get the loan, that we'd end up right back where we started, and so he really didn't want us blabbing the possibility of it to the world in the meantime. Who wants to have to explain a little failure? Most Jews are - like him - superstitious, but I'm not very good with exciting secrets, so it was tough for me.

No matter, though, because Ariel took it upon himself to tell every adult he met. Teachers, other parents, people I barely knew regularly came up to me and said, "So! I heard you guys got a house!" And when I'd ask how on earth they knew, they'd tell me Ariel had voluntarily filled them in. About his new backyard. Where there are bugs. And about how his parents are getting a new couch. And I'm going, I haven't even told my grandmother yet!

At the time, all of those were mere Maybes. But there's a reason Roya, his teacher, has nicknamed him "CNN."

Anyway, Y told me I could write about the house once we were living there. Well, tomorrow is moving day, but for the past 36 hours, the place has been ours. Today we took the kids over there, roamed the empty rooms, and eventually plopped down on the carpet to watch Elan and Ariel chase their tails in the absence of furniture.

I am absolutely panicked and overwhelmed to the point of possible breakdown (okay, dammit, I've already broken down) with the stress of moving, the myriad horrific, marriage-straining stresses of moving and I have to constantly remind myself that this is Good. A Good Thing. A good change that will likely be worth every ounce of momentary suffering. And I have a lot more to tell you all about it, but right now I've got to get some sleep so that I have the energy to break down properly and publicly and sufficiently loudly tomorrow as I usher boxes out my front door.

It's been seven years of apartment rentals and I just thought you should know that the next time I blog, it'll be from my house. That's right:

My.

House.

Yeah, whatever, Y's, too.