Livin' it up in the Penthouse Suite....(not really).

I am typing from my borrowed staff laptop. I am sitting cross-legged in an uncomfortable straight backed chair with slightly uneven legs and bad upholstery. The muffin is snoring in his travel crib in the next room, and I am attempting, (unsuccessfully as you might gather by my blogging) to finish my Management paper that was due last week. I am in essence, but not technically, homless. The sad story:

Last Saturday, the Muffin, Baby Daddy, and I went to out to have a fun evening together, (which we never get to do). Upon returning home, the Baby Daddy was unstrapping the bebe' while I went to unlock the door for everyone. I remember noticing a thin rivulet of water running from the door down the steps, and across the sidewalk. "Hmmm...", I thought, "That's odd, why would water be running out of the front door?" The obvious answer became clear to me once the key turned in the lock and I pushed the door forward. The first thing I noticed was a sound not unlike what I imagine Niagra Falls to sound like, a sort of whooshing roar. The second thing I realized was that I had icy water running over my shoes. Great. Just smashing. Baby Daddy shoved the bebe' into my arms while he tore through the house toward the waterfall sounds. I heard some cursing, some squeaking, and then silence. I bet I said, 'you've GOT to be kidding me', at least a thousand times while we were sloshing through each room. Their was not a dry inch of floor space in the entire house. At this point, we remembered the dogs. Bless their little hearts, they were huddled together on their soggy dog bed looking like the two strays Noah forgot to get off the ark. We got them taken care of, with me holding the Muffin all the while, because we couldn't put him down anywhere. The Baby Daddy went to the garage to retrieve the Shop Vac, (which only held 5 gallons. Heck, my coffe mug holds more liquid than that piece of crap...) and began the long process of trying to clean up. I fell into bed with the bebe', and the next morning, I rolled over to find Baby Daddy fully clothed, with his wet muddy feet still in his shoes.

Jump to today: We currently reside in the 'Penthouse' Suite of a local hotel. (Yes, it really is called that, I'll take a picture of the darn plaque if you don't belive me.) The name is a bit deceiving. It is a suite, as in, there is more than one room and we have a fridge. But don't even THINK we are sleeping on Egyptian Cotton, (more like stiff polyester), or using fancy little soaps wrapped in gold foil, (we actually only found a plastic shower cap upon our arrival). It could most certainly be much worse, so I am not complaining. There is a decent sized living room, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom with the toilet, a stand-up shower, and a pedestal sink, a bedroom with a two-person Whirlpool tub, and a decent closet. Home Sweet Home. And let me tell you, the muffin is all about it. He has tried ever door, opened every cabinet, and flushed the toilet about a hundred times. But his favorite thing is by far the Whirlpool tub. In order to bathe him, I actually have to get in with him. Lucky for me, there's a tiny ledge on one side, room enough for about half of a butt cheek. I roll up my jammie-pants and perch on this ledge while the bebe' makes engine noises and pushes his tugboats under the 'bridge' of my extened leg. They told us we will have to be out of our house for 4 to 6 weeks. I said, 'Not on your life'. Fortunately, the contractor working with us is an aquaintance of the Baby Daddy, and so I'm hoping he'll rush things along. The silver lining in al this is that we are planning on selling our house this year, and were prepared to put down all new floors/carpet in our house anyway. Now, we just have to pay our insurance deductable and we still get our new floor. Unfortunately, it's a small consolation in my otherwise traumatized world. But I'm keeping my head up!!!