Ok, the most disgusting things to me in the world are:

mice, reptiles,scorpions and roaches.

We are in Death Valley now and while we may have our usual assortment of mice and reptiles, scorpions and roaches are much more common. Scorpions are less likely in suburbia, but roaches? Roaches eat this shit up. The open can of borax under the sink should have been a dead giveaway, anyhow.

So I'm sitting on the porcelain throne, as is the right of every diabetic Queen in the wee hours of the night, and a roach goes scurrying. I wipe my royal butt and I get up and smoosh it.

And I think to myself,"Self, I betcha that stupid mop has more." So I lift up the mop and another one goes scurrying and it must have seen me limping around because it scurried to a corner I couldn't reach it. Sneaky little bastard.

Then it occurs to me that the kitchen is sort of a pit. So later this morning at first alarm, I'm making hubby get up and do dishes because with 2 bad knees, Momma ain't doing dishes at the moment except in small increments. And his first alarm goes off a good 25 minutes BEFORE he actually pulls his butt out of bed.

I have this one figured out.

Oh, and I am so using the boy's freak out over all things creepy and crawly to keep the dishes up. And I am soooo using the girl's freak out over the same to keep her bathwater in the tub. (Last night's bathroom was a man overboard thing -- so much water, so little time to drown the child.)

And yes, in my head, I keep wondering what implement I could realistically use to reach into that stupid corner behind the toilet to nail that freaking roach. And no, nothing I can reach comes to mind. So when the alarm goes off first for Mike, I am making him kill that thing.

Ok, so we get all moved in. Russell gets here after 2 weeks of no Bear.

I get the kids set up, I start my job.

Then I take a ginormous digger in the shower while trying to put soap away. I tripped on the lip of the shower and fell full force on my "good" knee. The other knee got banged a little and bruised, but I actually bruised the bone on my "good" knee. I also caught the door across my abdomen, so I'm bruised there, too.

I've been icing it and living on vicodan at night. At first, the doctor told me no driving because it's my right knee, but I can do stuff, so I'm just going to take some vicodan and drive home this weekend. I told Mike I wanted to stop at the midway point and spend the night both ways, so I can rest my messed up joint and ice the bejeebers out of it in between. He agreed.

I guess he didn't have much choice because the other choice was to fly him up there and let him pick up and load the truck himself, which he had already come up with about 10 reasons why that was impossible. So..yeah.

Next week, I'm going to be a sad miserable wreck in pain. And darn tootin' I'm going to blame my husband.