Call me psychic. It’s official. We have to move. Awesome.

NOT.

Dear Universe,

Apparently we’re not on such good terms, because I distinctly recall asking you to cut me some slack recently. Then tonight I get home to the letter I’ve been dreading but expecting. The letter telling me we have to move house.

Right now? When things aren’t the rosiest they’ve been in the past couple of years.

Really?

I’d like us to be friends again Universe. But to do that, you’re really going to need to be a little kinder to me. Just a little?

Just a little would look something like this: Maybe you could provide for us a gorgeous little home to move to? One that’s not too far from where we are now. Not too far from Bubba’s daycare. One where there’s no Dogscrimination and they are happy to have furry tenants. One that spiders are scared to enter?

If I don’t ask, I’ll never receive. So that’s me asking. Nicely. VERY nicely in fact.

(Oh, and I am not above begging if I have to.)

Thank you.
Very stressed out Mumma x

ps – Thank heavens for my 3 loves. When I dissolved into tears on the floor tonight, they all came to comfort me. Divine creatures that they are.