The myth of the perfect baby

Fabulous Freddy and the Freak brothers taught me that cats get it on like people and everyone farts and sometimes it makes the sound "pruit". I'm freaking the fuck out folks.  I sold the house.  The first buyer flaked right on out and tucked tale but all is well with that because two things...I had more offers waiting, and his wasn't the highest offer.  Why didn't I take the high one first you ask (except I know you didn't)?  Because that fucker was going to rent me my own house for a month so I didn't have to move in a hurry. Now I have to move in a hurry.  Escrow was supposed to close tomorrow.  It's been uh...postponed.  Because I'm dumb and have no goddamned clue what in the sam hell I'm doing.  No really, I don't.  All while this is going on, my daughter's gallbladder almost exploded inside of her, someone took it upon themselves to call animal control who in turn called adult protective services and child protective services...

Yeah, the title is a little misleading I guess for the post. Especially to those waiting around for an honorable mention here.  Is that cryptic?  Maybe.  But it is what it is. I'm selling my house.  A house I never thought I'd have to sell, the place that was my constant growing up, the place that contains most of my happy childhood memories, the place I could always call home when my parents couldn't keep the rent paid and we had to move houses....again.  This place that has turned into a poisonous vat of unhappiness that is my life now.  This place that would have ripped a family any less in love with each other than my own apart.  This place that now also harbors so much resentment for what should have been that I've begun to hate the very existense of its cloying stench.  Is this dramatic?  Sure, but what am I if not a dramatic attention seeking person that requires people to feel sorry for what I don't have?  Oh.....wait, that's ano...