Cleaning House

So, it’s been a year since we were certified for foster-adoption. I know this because the agency called and said it was time to inspect our house again. The guy who is coming over is the same one who looked it over last time, and he said he was sure that everything was fine, it would probably be a pretty quick visit. That’s good, so he probably won’t spot the stash of drugs and pornography.

Kidding, kidding. We’ll bury that in the usual spot in the back yard, next to the dead hookers.

I held off updating the blog the last month because I was hoping for news of a new placement, but that hasn’t happened.

Baby J is long gone. We packed up a suitcase for him so he’d have more to take to the next foster family than he had coming to ours, and there’d be some familiar toys and clothes so hopefully he wouldn’t be too scared. We took the baby seat out of the car, and the stroller out of the garage, and they’re all in the nursery. Like us, they're just waiting.

I mentioned in the last blog that it was too soon to have learned a lesson after loving and losing J. Pretty much, that’s still the case, but we have decided one lesson that we’ve learned is that we can handle this. That’s something.

My novel has been passed to a producer for Lifetime, and a literary agent. Fingers crossed that something will happen on that front.

Better get back to wrapping up the knives in a lockbox, plugging up all the outlets, replacing the rubber corners on tables which have fallen off, locking the chimney and toilets, locking away the cleaning products and medicines … I don’t want this guy’s estimation of our house as the world’s safest place for placement to be diminished.