TMI

I've had so much to write about. Questions to ask you. (But haven't. You might have noticed).

I wanted to ask you things like: How many days without a bowel movement does it take to raise your OBGYN's eyebrows? (Am still unsure, but I do know that six is NOT the answer.)

Or, how long can you survive in the 105 degree desert drinking only two cans of Sprite a day? (Approximately 6 weeks, if you don't go outside. If you go outside, you immediately become light-headed, your vision goes dark, and you feel as though you will lose consciousness.)

Or, did you ever vomit with such force that your eyes swelled shut, your face was covered in red spots for week, you puked blood, and the skin above your eyes actually tore open and bled? (Two weeks ago tonight).

But see, as I'd begin to write,  I'd remember how I'd linked my blog to my Facebook profile; and then I'd think, what if that I guy I never really knew, who sat behind me in 10th grade geometry, but has befriended me here on the internets, reads this stuff?

Really. It seems, as the young folks say: TMI.

And then I thought, does anybody want to hear it? Well, told myself, maybe, if I made it funny. So I set out to make it funny. But, it turns out, that while in the midst of it all, I couldn't find much humor.

I was in a dark place.

(My bedroom, with the blinds closed.)

I've been in the house for over two months. 

I've developed a tiny and impermanent case of agoraphobia.

In the meantime, my children have become unkempt and feral, eating cereal in the family room, fighting, dressing like they don't have mother, scarfing green jello at all hours (my jello), and playing the wii until their eyeballs dry up. (Sam's blonde 'fro has grown large, unwieldy, and strangely, even more beautiful than ever before during my seclusion. Is a wonder to behold.)

It is a wee bit like Lord of the Flies over here. 

Lately, though, there have been indicators that I am perhaps reaching an end to my woe. First, I ate fruit salad last Sunday for dinner. And I never saw it again! Then, I decided I could not look at another carbonated beverage, and drank THREE WHOLE BOTTLES OF WATER in one day (tap water still tastes like a rotten fish/dirt/penny cocktail), and kept nearly all of it down! 

In addition to my fear of TMI, I've other reasons for avoiding the internets. 

I've been doing stuff. 

We are heading out on a Church history trip (Boston, Sharon, VT, Palmyra, Kirtland) next week, and I forgot to clean my house, or shop for groceries since mid-July. And we are leaving kids at home with a sitter. This home. The one that is super messy and smells bad. Plus, I have exactly 1 pair of pants that fit me (and exactly zero brassieres). Oh, and we are moving! In a few weeks! (Just a few miles away, to Gilbert. Power and Baseline-ish, in case you care.) Which is thrilling, but since Jake and I are sort of pack rats, and we've lived here in this casa 8 whole years, we need to start cleaning. But instead I lie in the tub and read. (Approximately 3 linear feet of books in the last two months.)

Anyhow, I think I'll stop now. Is enough TMI for one day?

(It shall have to be. Is time to drive through the Taco Bell, so the kids will not ransack the kitchen while scavenging for scraps of meat. Plus, nothing says I love you like Nachos Bell Grande.)