Ink A Dink A Doo

I first noticed it a few months ago. Every once in a while, a faint smell of smoke. I'd walk around the house sniffing like my Golden Retriever when he knows there's a squirrel out there somewhere. I never found a source. Never could tell what it was related to, or even if there WAS smoke. After a while, I had convinced myself that it was an olfactory hallucination. Hey, it could happen. Then about four or five weeks ago, I began to smell...gas? kerosene?...every so often. Never enough to convince me that something was seriously wrong somewhere. Nobody else ever smelled it. By the time I'd done a sniff-through of the entire house, it was gone. A week ago, the heat came on and the malicious reek of furnace oil choked the air in the house. It happened each time the heat came on, becoming less offensive as the day wore on. I don't know if that's because it was calming or we were just becoming used to it.

We called the furnace guy. The same one who didn't charge me for his last/first visit just because "he couldn't possibly" - all the while giving me the "are these people idiots?"look. Hey, I've never owned a house with floor grates, I didn't know there were little wheels that closed them. Or levers on the pipes and ducts that helped us control the flow of air. So sue me. Furnace guy says it's probably...something that sounds like he knows what he's talking about...and give him a call if it gets worse. Otherwise, he'll be here later in the week. Yeah. The check's in the mail, too, buddy. The smell's getting worse. Starting yesterday, the furnace shuts itself off whenever the hell it feels like it - this became evident when we woke up this morning. Apparently the button I hit to reset the furnace is NOT the reset button. In fact, we don't know what it is or what it does. It does make noise, though. Okay, don't touch that one. Got it. I am of the mind that it probably isn't healthy for my children and I to be breathing this on a daily, sometimes thrice-daily, basis. Call me crazy (that's rhetorical).

Can anyone say "money pit"? Can anyone say "money pit for people without money"? Now, how about "exasperated", "finished", "beyond therapy" or "options"?

On another front, the youngest with the sleeping problems has stymied even the doctor. My son will not fall asleep on his own. Nor will he sleep in his crib longer than three hours - the norm being 30 to 60 minutes. Over the last five months, the situation has incrementally devolved directly after his father's visits. And now my son no longer allows himself to be placed in his crib. Immediately upon placement, or sometimes on the way down, he has what we're terming anxiety attacks, for lack of a better diagnosis. Uncontrollable shaking, torrential teary downpours, screaming my name as if I'm not two inches away from him, choking me trying to hold on when I pick him up. All this doesn't take a rocket scientist. But it does take a great deal of patience and mine is, like my cell phone minutes, limited. I'm having difficulty finding the line between consolation and indulgence, security and spoiling. At least if I screw this up royally, I'll have nobody to blame but myself, right?

And tonight, my husband has the nerve to say "we never should have left Block Island"! What' this 'we' thing, paleface (I'm claiming my Delaware Native American heritage on this one)? You're still there!

All this and a straight-A student who isn't. I've pulled off a few miracles in my time, but I can't wait to see how I'm gonna get out of this one!

Goodnight, Auntie M...I AIM'd you but you logged off before you saw. Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.