In the last 24 hours, I have received approximately eleventeen thousand "postmaster delivery failure" emails saying that my mail was "unable to be delivered." The problem? The emails going out from me were selling discount pharmaceuticals. Which, hello, if I had access to discount pharmaceuticals, I would certainly be keeping them all for myself.
Alas, I had to face the fact that my email account had been hacked.
Which means? I had to change my password. Which means? I am now in the midst of anxiety freakoutedness. Because I have the same password on EVERYTHING and NEVER change it and, oh, yeah, I HATE DEVIATING FROM MY NORM.
Also on the continuum of things that suck: tomorrow is "big chore day" around here. I also do not heart "big chores." Hopefully this weekend will mark THE END of Project Declutter and the beginning of "Staging." Also? I like to say "staging." Makes me feel like we're going to put on a show or something. Which is exactly how I explained staging to Carlie.
HER: Mom, what do you mean we're staging the house?
ME: I mean we're going to make it really clean and beautiful and keep it that way so when people come to look at it, they'll love it and want to buy it. We're going to pretend we always live this way.
HER: But as soon as we move, we can go back to being normal, right?
Wherein "being normal" = living like slobs, obviously.