We're still adopting, it turns out, though you wouldn't really know it around here.
We've stopped bothering to replace the outlet covers after we vacuum. I let The Hub eat the homemade chicken nuggets and mac and cheese I made and froze in case of an on-the-fly fost-adopt placement (seriously, I remember being told that those happen). I've stopped de-cat-hairing Unknown Child's bed each day. The Hub and I have resumed walking around the house in pajamas or undies, even though we were told to get used to being modestly covered when not in our bedroom. The lawn chemicals and household cleaners are out of their home in the locked cabinets because we're crazy that way, with a bag of fire ant poison resting on the second shelf in the garage. I've officially returned all the things we've purchased, aside from the waterproof mattress pad and the super-clearance bedding we got for 60 bucks instead of 400. I took the packing lists off the fridge and filed them, since it doesn't look like we're going to have to secure the antique glassware or fireplace pokers anytime soon. I'm not checking my email nine times a day waiting for word, any word, from any of the social workers that are out there. I'm not even upset anymore that, even though our agency told us that most of their placements are fost-adopt, we've not yet been contacted about one single child -- and we're looking for older children, not babies. I was planning on waiting until we were matched before I had my hair re-dyed, so I maybe could coordinate with Unknown Child or just get rid of the un-mom alternating purple and ultrablonde highlights (because I'm insane, you know), but I've got a "multi-color" appointment scheduled. We're back to going over the foreclosure listings in search of a house to flip, calling my beloved contractor to see when he's available for a project, since I'm starting to think we'll have the four or five months a medium-impact house would take (from search to market).
In addition, when my family or friends ask about "how the adoption is going," I've started acting like I'm 15 and my dad has just asked why I'm late for curfew. Turns out that "I don't know" shoulder shrug and eyeroll is pure muscle memory.
Overall, this is a bland place to be. When we began, we had intent, we had a goal, we had momentum, we had a placement worker that would talk to us on the phone (in this state, I hear that's a miracle). Now, instances of excitement are far between, and followed by weeks of uncertainty, and so far, disappointment.
So for now, we just keep doing what we've been doing for years, with as little thought as possible (for sanity's sake) to what may or may not be around the bend.