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Oh my sweet merciful Jesus. If things get any worse around here, I'm going to take out a hit on myself, just so Husband can collect the insurance money and feed the kids.

*Disclaimer*
This is not just pointless bitching. It's competitive bitching. If you can top this, I'll bake you something yummy and mail it to you. Pumpkin gingerbread, anyone?

So, let's see. The ginormous ice storm of doom has kept some potential buyers from visiting our house THREE TIMES now. They seem to be interested, and I get a good feeling about it, but still. If you can't *get* to the house and/or *see* the house, it's not doing me any good.

On that front, shall we sell? Shall we rent it out? What if it doesn't sell quickly? Then do we rent? What if we decide to rent it out, then someone wants to buy it? Then can we sell? What if the housing market doesn't bottom out til 2012?

What if we all die in 2012?

How far behind am I on my grading? (Hint: I've started measuring in assloads - tons just weren't cutting it.)

How inadequate am I feeling as a teacher, when I realize that my students are nowhere *near* where I thought they would be by December? Am I going too slow? Too fast? Are they not getting it? Are they bored? Shouldn't I be able to tell this? How pissed am I that December is full of crap stupid activities and hardly any class time? (Again, it's a lot.)

My whole family is sick. Sick sick sick. And I am sick sick sick and tired of taking care of them. The next person who shits on me, pukes on the table, or claims to have a fever is going to get a sharp stick in the eye. And then, I'm going to retire to my room for at least 48 hours. Alone.

What's more, things with Husband are stuck in a rut. We sucked for a long time, and then it was looking up, and now I feel like we're just spinning our wheels. Or, rather, our wheels are spinning, and we don't have the time or energy to pay attention to them. I want to draw him closer, but really, I find myself lashing out at him, just because I'm frustrated by our situation, not by him. I have one of those stupid personality things where I get angry when I'm really scared. And where I eat when I'm sad.

Wow. Have I mentioned how much I eat when I'm sad? Wait - don't hold still for more than a minute. I might eat you, too. The pounds just keep piling on, and the fatter I get, the sadder I get, which means I eat more. And the wheels just keep spinning...

Um, there are bills in here, but Husband thinks I blog about money too much. (Hi, dear!) Mr. Micawber probably put it best: "Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen pounds nineteen and six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery." Our income is something rather less than our expenditures. Ahem.

But wait. The piece de resistance is yet to come:

Today, on my commute home, in the wet slushy slick nasty mess that is my lot in life, I fell asleep at the wheel and rear-ended someone. Awesome. Luckily, it was low speed, since we were in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and there were no airbags, no cops, and no injuries. But still. My fault. My deductible. My rate hike. My smashed grill. My bad.

I win. You get no pumpkin gingerbread from me. In fact, I think you now owe *me* some sort of holiday baked good. Butter is better, folks.