We have looked at many houses over the last week. We had a short window of time to find something. Most places are rented out within a few weeks of being posted, so not much was available before now for the end of July.
We haven't found anything--at least, not anything that would make a move worthwhile. There have been a few houses that were kind of okay but had one or two big things we didn't like.
There was one house that was perfect in layout and number of rooms. It was obviously cared-for, very clean, had a fenced-in yard and a new back deck. But it was in a seedy neighborhood. Which is still okay with me (you can't win everything on our budget). And kind of far from Jeremy's work and most of our friends. Still, it was that great of a house that we were thinking of moving anyway.
But then. THEN! We went out to look at the backyard, and the neighbors behind us have these gigantic roosters. These things could eat Emmy whole.
Apparently she saw that, too, because as soon as they started crowing (and crowing and crowing and crowing), she burst into tears and hightailed it for the house.
I have nothing against farm animals. I'm from the boonies of South Dakota, which has more farm animals than people. But in the middle of the city, you don't really expect or want aggressive roosters for backyard neighbors.
So we'll be staying here until March. If we wait too much longer to re-sign the lease, someone will rent our apartment, and then we'll most likely have to settle for something we don't especially love. In the meantime, we hope our house will sell so we can raise the budget a little bit (so many great-looking houses just $100/month or so above our absolute upper limit). Or maybe a tornado will eat it.
I have been going to a chiropractor for a couple of months now, and boy do I wish I'd gone sooner. I no longer feel like an old woman from the hips up. He also does physical therapy, which I did not know until I asked him if he could help me with a shoulder thing. "Sure!" he says, and starts poking around my shoulder muscles like he's testing a half-cooked roast. It... hurt.
He says, "I think this blah blah blah thing will help." Where "blah blah blah" is some medical-ish sounding business that also means, "five minutes of excruciating pain while I pinch this shortened muscle." But it totally worked. I have better range of motion in that shoulder than I have in, oh, ever. I can also now lift more with that arm than I can the other. Perhaps my right shoulder will be "bothering" me next time I go in.
I hope my chiropractor doesn't turn out to be Norman Bates-y, too.
Emmy was sick for the last week. Those crayons are what caused it, I think, because no one else had any problems. She got to the point where I said, "Okay, tomorrow I'm calling the doctor," so of course she woke up the next day completely fine.
Then yesterday she swallowed a marble.