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Oh, I was feeling a bit irate in the last entry, ya think? Not so much today – I’ve finished yet another week. I just realized that as of this time next Friday, I will have been here exactly 6 months. That’s crazy. I’m just ready for the weekend to start.

I took a pregnancy test two days ago just to see, and it was negative of course – I really didn’t expect it to be otherwise. I’m just kind of bothered that things still aren’t happening… But part of me is kinda relieved. Bobby and I are all in a muddle, and we need to pay off debt before buying a house. I know it doesn’t have to be synonymous (Jennifer and Tom are proving that), but when I think baby, I immediately think house. There’s nothing wrong with living in that apt and having a baby – it’s not what I or Jennifer pictured, but it’s doable.

Jennifer didn’t re-sign her teaching contract with Starr-Iva last week – she’s going to stay home with Baby Haren. It’s so much better for the baby, I know, but I’m worried about how she’s going to function mentally being in that apt by herself all the time – just her and a baby in an apt that she hates. But it’s hard for me to picture because it’s just a different life – sometimes when I go to Chick-fil-A, I look at the mothers sitting at the little playground tables, chatting and reading their books – they really do live in a different world. I think on some level, I’m fearful of Jennifer joining that world – will we still be friends? Will we still understand each other? I don’t know… I really don’t.

And oh my lord. Last week, I wrote the check for the West-Oak High School reunion and was looking for the response card to mail back… came across an unopened notice from the State of SC – I opened it… it was a past due notice. Kept flipping through the pile of stuff, came across another one. And another, and another. A grand total of 13 past due notices from the State of SC dating back to July of 2006. I felt the urge to puke, followed by an urge to kill my husband… I presented him with our little stack of fun and it turns out that he KNEW. We had actually gotten several more prior to July, and they stressed him out so he just stopped opening them. Because that’s the nice grown-up, adult way to handle something that stresses you out.

After he finished sitting on the edge of the bed, looking mournfully downcast and weeping (seriously, he looked just like the freakin Cowardly Lion, but I couldn’t laugh because I was so pissed), we decided to buck up and face the music. I made an appt with Frankie at Scarborough Tax Service today for next Wed afternoon. We’re going to sit down and go through the entire stack, and figure out if we’re going to have to give the state our first-born child. On the phone, Frankie said that SC is infamous for estimating what they think your small business should have made, and billing you taxes based on this number that they basically pull out of their butts. That’s an insane way to calculate – and the fun thing is that people probably scrape the money together and pay up. Ugh – anyway.