And so it begins. . .

The night after Christmas and all through the house. . .

Goose grease in the air and family due over any ol' time now. (Mom is already here, but does she really count? :-)

We signed the revised contract today for the house. Closing is set for January 31 and we'll take possession the next day. (What IS that about anyway? The realtor has explained it to me at least twice that the delay is due to the current owner being "scared" that closing won't go according to plan and so she needs an extra day just in case but I really don't understand what that all really means. . . Very strange.)

We drove through the neighborhood today. Ours is probably the smallest looking house in the entire development. No kidding. But it's all an optical illusion. With the attic finished it's actually bigger than several neighboring houses, it just doesn't have an "official" second floor. Donald says it's better that way--all the big, impressive houses just serve to drive up our property value.

For those who don't know (And just who might you be, anyway? Will anyone who doesn't know me EVER read this? I can't imagine that anyone at all--whether you know me or not--would actually WANT to read this, but I suppose there may be someone. It takes all kinds and all.), my husband and I are buying a bigger house in order to move my elderly, nearly invalid, pain in the ass--bless her heart--grandmother in with us.

My grandmother's husband died of a massive heart attack in March of 2004. He woke up one morning, went into the bathroom to wash his face and *BAM* had a heart attack. According to my grandmother, he was breathing and semi-conscious when she went to see what all the noise was about (he fell and was lying on the floor in front of the bathtub). She yelled at him to get up. He didn't. She called her brother and told him that "William fell," which naturally my uncle interpreted to mean, well, that he fell, not that he'd had a massive heart attack and was dying. Grandma didn't mention any of that. So my uncle rounded up his son-in-law and they headed over to my grandmother's house, which is a good 15 minute drive away. In the meantime, my grandmother got dressed. Needless to say, by the time my uncle got to her house my step-grandfather had died. When asked later why she hadn't bothered to call 911 my grandmother replied that she hadn't wanted EMS to come while she was in her bedclothes. Seriously. That's what she said.

So did my grandmother purposefully contribute to the demise of her husband by not alerting the appropriate authorities? Or did she honestly not know it was as big of a deal as it was? We'll never know. All I know is that Mr. Bennett is dead, my grandmother is living "all by herself" in a crappy house in Johnston county, her children absolutely will not, cannot live with her and I am going to try and rescue her by letting her live with me.

Here we go. . .