I realized this morning that I must've been googling a bunch of weird stuff, because my Facebook feed and my Amazon recommendations are both completely insane and I am a little worried about myself now. In honor of that, here are my top five Amazon recommendations and my top five recommended posts from Facebook. Just because Friday.

1. Amazon recommended a bunch of supplements for irritable bowel syndrome. Don't have that, but thanks, guys.

2. Amazon also recommended several books about Stockholm Syndrome. So many ideas about where they got that suggestion...

3. Amazon would like me to consider purchasing a wide variety of mega high platform shoes, generally in white patent leather. Apparently my feet don't look large enough on their own.

4. Amazon keeps trying to sell me creams for low testosterone. Seriously. Among all of the problems I might have, that one is the least worrisome, guys.

5. Finally, Amazon really, really, really knows I like to wash my hands. I get so many offers for deals on hand soap, you wouldn't believe it. Amazon just doesn't understand that I have limited storage space for my nine million spare bottles of moisturizing hand soap or, as I like to call it, "other people's poop particle remover" because, as I've said repeatedly, it's not about germs, it's about poop.

Now on to the Facebook!

1. Facebook recommended four separate articles about dealing with OCD. Yeah, maybe that one makes sense. I just didn't think fb knew me so well.

2. Facebook also posts numerous articles about Gary Johnson, which is weird because I never say political stuff on my page, except that I hate Trump because, well, he's just awful. But I did watch that video where GJ referred to Trump as the p-word a billion times because, I mean, come on. Gary climbs mountains. Trump can't even get his foundation to not look like Cheese Whiz.

3. Facebook knows I'm obsessed with Keeping Up Appearances. There are so many video links and articles about it on my page. I have said maybe one thing about it on there, ever. That is just creepy.

4. Facebook thinks I should eat more fruits and vegetables, because links to articles about improving health through diet pop up like every two seconds. Honestly, guys. I get it. I'm fat.

5. And, finally, Facebook knows I'm freaked out about Alzheimer's. There are about fifty articles about prevention, cures, research, and everything else on there, every day. All the time. How did you get all the way into my head, fb? It's just weird.

So, yes, my internet knows that I am a hand washing weirdo who votes third party and obsesses about my genetic predisposition to every disease known to man. Great. Maybe I should just turn it off.

Hahahaha, just kidding. That would be way too boring and might lead to dangerous activities like thinking. Never!

We have a sink!

I didn't realize at exactly which point I would start to feel like the kitchen was coming together, but it's totally at this point. The sink point.

Maybe it's just because we spent the weekend away and got some sleep and some good food and just had a lovely relaxing time, but I'm feeling so much better.

Also, it's freezing and snow-rainy and just beautiful outside today, so that doesn't hurt.

At any rate, today, I get to clean out the new cabinets and put dishes in them and get a wee bit organized, so I am super happy about that. 

Well, as super happy as I ever am, which is okay by me.

I can now wash my hands and wash dishes and throw stuff away in my kitchen, rather than getting water from the bathroom and going out to the garage to fill my kettle. So much fun for me, right there.

Acupuncture later, too. Don't know if I can handle this much goodness in one day.

Getting closer to done.

I keep telling myself that, but little tiny booboos keep cropping up, and I'm at the point where I just want to throw in the towel. Can't do it, though, as we're way way way past the point of no return.

Let me just say that people with OCD should never ever do anything. Just buy everything ready-made by machines so you never have to see un-straight lines, countertops that aren't quite level, or knobs that aren't exactly square. I'll just get in at the end of the process and try not to look.

But in the real world, sometimes you have to deal with these things.

And I know that some people wouldn't even notice the things that drive me the most crazy, but I like straight lines and squareness. 

And straight. 

No bumps.

Just straight.

And square. 

No round.

No crooked.

Oh my goodness I hope we're done soon. I may have gone all the way to cuckoo. 

I just realized that I didn't publish my last post. Over a week ago. I may be a little tired.

At any rate, it's a lot better now. All the floors are in, and I have most of my house back (except the kitchen, which I don't even want to think about because it's now weeks behind schedule), and now it's just finish work for the most part. So that's good.

The less good part is just how the rest of life is kind of stinky right now what with all of the illness and sadness and tiredness.

So, just because I want to remind everybody, and this is my blog page, today's post is a PSA-type reminder. I want you all to remember that you need to get your colonoscopy when your doctor tells you to. Seriously. I've had like ten. They're really not that bad. Just watch some Netflix on your iPad and maybe play some mahjong.

It's not as weird and embarrassing as you think. Really. It's actually really funny once the drugs kick in.

The alternative is losing a quarter of your intestines, having to go through chemo that gives you horrendous diarrhea and severe pain, and basically being confined to your house for months. It's awful.

So, let a doctor put a tube with a camera in it up your butt. That's the moral of today. Wow. I hate to guess what the moral of tomorrow is going to be.

I feel like, at this point, we should probably just bring our camper to Lowe's, so we can just sleep there and make trips home occasionally. It would be more efficient.

I suppose these are the pitfalls of doing projects in a tiny town with a hardware store which has limited items and super high prices, but come on. Who can afford to just hire people to do every little thing? That's crazy talk. 

In any case, as we approach the last weeks of the project, it seems like more and more things are requiring different things than the things we've already got, so we need to make more and more trips to Lowe's. Or Home Depot, but that's about twenty minutes further than the Lowe's, so we're definitely making do with Lowe's whenever possible.

We are also learning which cashiers to avoid, which is a very good thing, perhaps the only plus from our many trips. There is one girl who has a voice that is the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Seriously. When she speaks, dogs all over the neighborhood go crazy and I'm pretty sure glass all over the store shatters. It's bad. There's also a crazy old lady who took five hours to check us out and then asked, "How many of these?" When we told her there were five, she repeated it after us, then proceeded to ring up ten. And insisted we told her ten.

I just can't. 

I am learning that some families like to wear a ton of perfume when shopping for hardware, so if I see a large group, I need to approach them cautiously before breathing normally or I will get a throat full of fragrance and be wheezy the rest of the day. Strange, but accurate.

And finally, I have learned that the smell in the lumber department is quite possibly my favorite smell of all time. Too bad we're not buying much lumber.

All in all, the end is in sight, and I have a feeling we just may survive. It's just those multiple trips making us insane. The house is starting to come together- the kitchen and living room have a floor, some of the gross old bifold doors have been replaced, the bedrooms are prepped and ready for carpet, and the cabinet installation has started. Maybe, just maybe, we'll  finish on time.

And maybe we won't have to make any more Lowe's runs.

Bahahaha...that is so funny, I can't stand it.

Okay, so this article called, "Five Things People Without Kids Should Never Say To People With Kids" popped up in my feed five times this morning. FIVE TIMES. Different people, none of them connected (and also no one who actually reads this blog, but never mind that).

I would just like to call b.s.

I get that having a kid is really, really hard. I get it. But there's a reward there that those of us without kids will never get. Never. No sticky baby kisses or tiny toes or graduations or weddings or any of that stuff. Maybe there are people out there who talk smack about moms, but I'm certainly not one of them. So stop complaining about how much harder your life is than mine, and how we childless people always give you crap. I would never say what you're doing is easy; I know it's rough, and I would never compare my struggles to yours. But I do have them, they're mine, and to me, they're difficult.

I give you major credit for raising teeny people; in fact, I think parents are pretty amazing beings, and I don't know how you do it. That just isn't my path. But don't assume that my childlessness is my way of silently judging you. I don't feel like any of us has a right to belittle another person's problems. 

I don't judge you on Mother's Day, when I have to leave the house in order to take my Mom someplace special to celebrate how awesome she is, and I have to hear either, "Hey there, Mom! Happy Mother's Day!" or,"How come you don't have kids?" a billion times. Seriously.

I don't judge you when strangers feel like they can comment on my lack of babies, or even people who know me say things like, "Oh, she doesn't like kids." (Total and complete lie, btw. I absolutely do. My reasons are way more complex and entirely none of anyone's business.)

I don't even judge you when it's Christmas and I get to see all of your beautiful pictures of kids happily opening fun presents from Santa and I know I'll never get to do that. It's not easy, guys. Sometimes the cute that pops up on my Facebook page is almost unbearable.

Yet, I never, not even once, made an attempt to compare my difficulties to yours.

I will gladly listen to you tell me how hard it is. I will gladly sympathize with your lack of sleep and total failure to make it through a movie without having to leave because someone peed his pants or started screaming because something random was scary. That sucks. And I get that it's hard.

But don't put down my life because of it.

Life is a terribly complicated thing. Nothing is simple, nothing is straightforward, and NOTHING is fair. We make the best choices we can, and move on from there. And I applaud you for choosing to share your life with those miniature insane people. They will grow up, it will get better, and you will sleep again. I will never put down your choice, and I will never compare my struggles to yours.

Try to think of that next time you feel offended by my lack of offspring, and for me daring to say that I ever have difficulties. Your life is yours, mine is mine, they're all tricky, and we should all support each other. Period.

So this is my last week of teaching for a bit, since I'm taking a couple of weeks off while the house is all torn up. All day yesterday, I kept getting the question, "How are you going to cook?" 

Well, if our dinner yesterday was any indicator, we're going to put half a dozen eggs in the egg cooker, start it, have it overflow all over the makeshift counter, then run out of water too soon to fully cook the eggs, and then have a runny batch of eggs which we will then try to microwave, but will not cook any further without turning into a wet bunch of eggy goo, which will then get thrown away, and we will eat cheese sandwiches.

So that, my friends, is how we're going to cook.

I believe we will also have us some pb&j, yogurt, and string cheese. Might throw some lunchmeat and/or some microwave popcorn in there, too. Just to spice it up.

Thank goodness we don't have children, because the whining would just kick this project into a very, very bad place. A place involving McDonald's at every meal and gaining fifty pounds over the next three weeks.

But that is not the case. Yet.

Three weeks from tomorrow, we'll be done. 

No more eggs, though. 

Sigh.