We've turned into statistics.

When I was recovering from my bunion surgery, I started to read Do Not Deny Me by Jean Thompson, and one of the short stories in the collection was about a couple whose house was upside down in its value vs. what they paid and the husband got laid off from his job. The upside down part read so familiar to me, was so scary because we're in the same situation with our condo, but I had the relief of knowing that my husband and I were never going to lose our jobs. At least we had that. Because the couple in the story didn't have kids, but we have one, so the prospect of losing a job is really terrifying for me.

But the way the story is written, it's pretty realistic, which is why I'm loving Jean Thompson right now (still reading her book). It left me with a creepy, haunting feeling.

Fast-forward a week, Monday to be exact. On this day we all found out that jobs were being cut. My job, luckily, was not; however, my husband's job was being cut. Well, not so much cut as being moved. To another state. A state halfway across the country. Minnesota, to be exact.

So after having some people do some stuff and because my husband is so well-thought of in his job, it looks like we're moving to Minnesota in the next few months.

My job (my job outside of a job-job) is figuring out how to sell our condo, and my sister is setting me up with a realtor she knows to talk about short sales and how that's all going to work. We plan to go to MN in July to check out places that we've been checking out online, and figuring out where the best place to live will be. Other than that, we have a ton of packing to do and things to schedule and worries to worry.

And since I'm the biggest dork on the face of the earth, I lost sleep this morning thinking about how there won't be a litter box at our new place for when we show up with our two very unhappy cats. No, no...I don't worry about actually having them on a plane for 3.5 hours and how they will react. I worry about the poop box. And, if I know my kitties, the last thing they will want to do when they get to the new place and are let out of the cat carriers is poop or pee. But yet I'm still worried about it.

Now this, I tell you, this whole situation is great book fodder.