motivational forgetting

I learned in my Clep book for Human Growth and Development that sometimes repression is called motivational forgetting, which I just love. It seems happier, more active, self help groups could be dedicated towards it. God knows I'd like to channel some motivational fogetting towards erasing the month of December from my mind. And I had the worst dream last night, that I slapped Owen on the face (I've never slapped anyone ever) and it was so hard it left red marks, like a handprint and I wanted to hide it so I wouldn't get in trouble. It was so real and so awful, I woke up feeling spent. My word. Things are beyond panic producing right now, which might explain the dream, my guilt. I don't know that I've been this stressed before, aside from when I was pregnant with Oona and then I was crazy and stressed. Now I'm just normal (which probably qualifies as mildly crazy) and in full on panic mode. My downstairs is beyond disastrous - drywall is going up but Christmas is next week and my kitchen is essentially gutted and I, um, dropped the cabinet above my sink on the faucet and broke the spigot so even the sink is inoperable. Let's see... my Mom came out because my Grandma appeared to be dying once again but either I'm living Peter and the Wolf or my Grandma is a cat with nine lives because she's perking up? without antibiotics? when her breathing sounded like someone sucking on a bong just yesterday? What else, what else. Oh, I'm to take the CLEP next Tuesday, wish me luck because I haven't really and truly been studying that well admist this perfect storm of events all taking place in the holiday season. I could kick myself for being so dumb about the home renovations. But I don't like to do things half way so I kept picking apart at the kitchen, sort of the way you do at a scab when you're a curious, masochistic child, and now it's an angry pus filled wound. Needless to say, I don't have a tree up yet or presents wrapped. So... if you're into schadenfreude by all means enjoy the pictures below while singing it's the most wonderful time of the year to yourself. I do it, glutton for punishment that I am.

my mantra is 'it will get better' because, honestly, how much worse could it get?

you know how anthropologie and other catalogs will pose models next to decrepit plaster walls and it looks so pretty and arty? not so in real life.

dining room. my neighbor, the firefighter, helped fix a last minute leak on the roof over the box window, allowing the drywaller to finish hanging drywall in the room. i need to buy him something special, i'm thinking alcohol, to thank him.

beyond the plastic wrap is ground zero in the house, our living room.

can i recommend getting a man to help take out a toilet and put it by the curb if you have a nice strong man around? good thing i go to a chiropractor for trigger point therapy.

i plan on replacing the small window with one that will fit within the original, larger, frame. but i need to f*cking take a breath first.