.one of several decaying logs, teeming with as much life as death
.a giant oak leaf that looked like a dinosaur footprint
.a bigass fort
.a temporary gravel pile and a couple of cute babies
.a lovely vulval bracket fungus on another of the aforementioned logs
.a strawberry bush aka hearts-a-bursting vine
#backyardnaturalist #fungi #decomp #forestfloor #treehouse #xpost via Instagram http://ift.tt/1JdQaxb
Everybody tells you, when you become a mother, that you won’t even get to go to the bathroom alone.
Nobody told me that I’d be so not-alone that I’d always have a quorum.
The listing realtor comes tonight to see the house and, I hope, give a much-needed motivation injection by telling us the pig’s lipstick looks quite sellable, actually.
Because right now — after at least 6 weeks of concerted purging, boxing, and clearing — it still feels like 80% of my preparation has been…buying a can of Febreeze.
People like Febreeze, right?
The more I want to be gone, the more impossible it seems.
Has anybody ever actually sold a house they were still living in? With two children? Under age 2? And a disability that makes tidying up a monumental effort?