Ok - it's officially *on*.
I've been here long enough to learn how to get around town without the GPS unit. I don't hesitate as much or think about things like "so when this road gets to the end, do I turn left or right?", and I know about 3 or 4 ways to get to the nearest coffee house. So it's safe to say that I need to start getting a routine established that includes me emptying at least 4 boxes a day.
Thus far, I wake up, grab the laptop and head to the coffee shop (which is where I am currently), then I either swing by the grocery store or the home supplies store on the way home, put those items away, get some laundry going, wash dishes, get lunch going, check for any letters from my folks, and then *poof* it's time to think about dinner and then sleep and start all over again.
Notice that there's no time slot in there for "unpack the several hundred pounds of boxes and crap that you brought with you". I am, I freely admit, a pro at procrastination. WHEN I reach my limit, 'tho (and I always do), step back and be amazed.
And that's kinda been the problem. Monday rolls around and I go like gangbusters for 6 hours and then collapse in a pile of bruised limbs and sore muscles in the bath. (It's no exaggeration to say that's where my most awesome boyfriend found me last week - asleep in the bath, bubbles abounding, candles going.) I'm still aching on Tuesday so that becomes a "resting" day, then Wednesday is my catch up on around town stuff (banking, post office, grocery run), and heck Thursday sneaks up on me and before I can swill the last of my mocha, it's Saturday.
So that's it. I know today is a Friday in October, but today is Boxing Day.
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I also wanna change the sheets today, and have laundry to do, gotta mail some presents to my nieces, and should probably balance my checkbook.
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Ok so three boxes for sure.
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Oh, and hang the pictures. And those last two copper bowls, need to clean those first but yeah, hang those in the kitchen. Gotta gas up the car, too.
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Hmmm - I also promised the most awesome boyfriend that he could have those two empty crates so I gotta clean those up a bit. And, before I start unpacking MORE boxes, I should probably move the piles of stuff that came from those other boxes that's now exploded all over the living room. So that should go into the setup room first. Two boxes. I'd be happy with two boxes.
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Gotta go freshen up my mocha ... and then *snort* watch me go! That silly box won't know what hit it.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Ask Not For Whom The Cricket Chirps ...
One of the first things my mother ever bought for me after I’d moved out from home and into my first apartment was a large brass cricket – about the size of my fist. If I wanted to relate a warm and wonderful tale, I’d perhaps write that it was a very thoughtful gift. I will, instead, recall my immediate and honest reaction – which was, if memory serves, “what the bloody hell…?” I don’t remember how long I waited before I donated it, but I don’t believe it lasted more than a month of sitting on top of a cabinet.
My mother has many wonderful qualities. The woman can grow plants by just wandering through a greenhouse. She can put aside her own pain and give her all to those that may need it. She has a wonderful eye for color. She tolerates idiocy and ridiculousness with a genuine smile on her face. I have never seen her do a crossword puzzle using anything but a pen. She has a terrific grasp of the English language and always seems to have the right words to say. She hesitates to spend more than $30 for a warm Winter sweater for herself, but never lets my sister or I walk out the door without inflicting cash on us. She’s not a browser or a shopper – she’s a buyer.
Suffice to say that she passed most of these gifts on to her first daughter. I’ve actually killed ivy, so I’m a “no” on the green thumb. I have a fairly high threshold for pain but, when I reach that limit, all bets are off. I have no sense of what colors complement each other. I cannot (and do not) suffer fools gladly. I typically glance at a crossword puzzle and, if the first few clues are too difficult, I just read the comics. I have a good in-head thesaurus but the right words seem to come HOURS after I need them. I have no problems spending money on myself, though it typically produces guilt afterwards. The one trait in that list that we seem to share is the last one. We are buyers.
Because I have a limited visualization technique when it comes to items, I tend to buy from stores. My mother uses catalogues. Pounds and pounds of catalogues. Hundreds of acres of forests would still be on this blue marble of ours if not for my mother getting every catalogue in print. So, when I was presented with this brass cricket back in 1987, I figured this was just another one of my mother’s crazy catalogue buys.
When I was in the process of moving recently, I spent each evening at my parent’s home … the same one in which I grew up or, at least, the same one from which I first moved away 20+ years ago. The creek in the back portion of their property produces some rather folksy wildlife, including frogs and crickets. The frogs are more fickle about their seasons, but the crickets tend to be out whenever there are a few warm days in a row. Hearing their gentle chirping while I drifted off to sleep after a day of packing boxes was better than any relaxation recording and, at some point, I must have commented to my mom about how nice their “songs” were. “They’re good luck, yanno?” I glanced over at her … “crickets are?” I asked, incredulously. “Yeah – if they’re inside your home, they’re considered to be good luck.”
I felt like a schmuck.
All those years ago my mother was using a symbol to offer me her support and best wishes in my new home and my only thought was “great – a giant brass insect. Terrrrrrrific. Just what every young girl wants to have in her new apartment.”
I remember this now because of the crickets in my new home. We have an agreement – these lucky insects and I. They can live in the basement and in the laundry room and chirp away happily all day and night. As long as they don’t try to surprise me by hopping up the stairs into my kitchen, they’re welcome to sing along as I go about my day. Before I head off to bed each night, I (or, more accurately, my awesome boyfriend) conduct a “cricket patrol” in which all crickets that are advancing up the stairs for a midnight visit are instead escorted (unharmed) to the door and released into the night.
Twenty years ago, my mom figured I needed all the help I could get. Two decades later, I have more good luck than I would ever hope to ask for … and I have the crickets to show for it.
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(Written on October 1st at Noon but posted a week later because - again - new home, no Internet.)
My mother has many wonderful qualities. The woman can grow plants by just wandering through a greenhouse. She can put aside her own pain and give her all to those that may need it. She has a wonderful eye for color. She tolerates idiocy and ridiculousness with a genuine smile on her face. I have never seen her do a crossword puzzle using anything but a pen. She has a terrific grasp of the English language and always seems to have the right words to say. She hesitates to spend more than $30 for a warm Winter sweater for herself, but never lets my sister or I walk out the door without inflicting cash on us. She’s not a browser or a shopper – she’s a buyer.
Suffice to say that she passed most of these gifts on to her first daughter. I’ve actually killed ivy, so I’m a “no” on the green thumb. I have a fairly high threshold for pain but, when I reach that limit, all bets are off. I have no sense of what colors complement each other. I cannot (and do not) suffer fools gladly. I typically glance at a crossword puzzle and, if the first few clues are too difficult, I just read the comics. I have a good in-head thesaurus but the right words seem to come HOURS after I need them. I have no problems spending money on myself, though it typically produces guilt afterwards. The one trait in that list that we seem to share is the last one. We are buyers.
Because I have a limited visualization technique when it comes to items, I tend to buy from stores. My mother uses catalogues. Pounds and pounds of catalogues. Hundreds of acres of forests would still be on this blue marble of ours if not for my mother getting every catalogue in print. So, when I was presented with this brass cricket back in 1987, I figured this was just another one of my mother’s crazy catalogue buys.
When I was in the process of moving recently, I spent each evening at my parent’s home … the same one in which I grew up or, at least, the same one from which I first moved away 20+ years ago. The creek in the back portion of their property produces some rather folksy wildlife, including frogs and crickets. The frogs are more fickle about their seasons, but the crickets tend to be out whenever there are a few warm days in a row. Hearing their gentle chirping while I drifted off to sleep after a day of packing boxes was better than any relaxation recording and, at some point, I must have commented to my mom about how nice their “songs” were. “They’re good luck, yanno?” I glanced over at her … “crickets are?” I asked, incredulously. “Yeah – if they’re inside your home, they’re considered to be good luck.”
I felt like a schmuck.
All those years ago my mother was using a symbol to offer me her support and best wishes in my new home and my only thought was “great – a giant brass insect. Terrrrrrrific. Just what every young girl wants to have in her new apartment.”
I remember this now because of the crickets in my new home. We have an agreement – these lucky insects and I. They can live in the basement and in the laundry room and chirp away happily all day and night. As long as they don’t try to surprise me by hopping up the stairs into my kitchen, they’re welcome to sing along as I go about my day. Before I head off to bed each night, I (or, more accurately, my awesome boyfriend) conduct a “cricket patrol” in which all crickets that are advancing up the stairs for a midnight visit are instead escorted (unharmed) to the door and released into the night.
Twenty years ago, my mom figured I needed all the help I could get. Two decades later, I have more good luck than I would ever hope to ask for … and I have the crickets to show for it.
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(Written on October 1st at Noon but posted a week later because - again - new home, no Internet.)
Seeing The Padded Lining
To say that I’ve been busy as of late would be a huge injustice to … well … to me. In the past – glances at watch – ummmmm carry the two … one hundred and eight hours – I have moved my entire existence. I have new neighbors, new streets, new routines, new shops, new critters (you should just see the size of the crickets around here), new everything. It’s WILD the decisions I get to make now. “I want to hang this apron here” and “look, new dishes” can be kinda exciting, in a strange way. There are the familiar touches (ie the stuff I brought with me), but overall, it’s pretty much a brand new world. And it’s a world that I’m enjoying a whole lot.
Making do with what I brought with me has turned out to be easier than I expected, but that’s mostly because of the advance work that was done prior to my arrival, and I’m very grateful for that work. Without the lanterns, my only light in the evenings would come from my PDA. Without the air mattresses, the first few days of sleep would have been not as luxurious as it was (happily the new bed has now been delivered). Without the mass amount of cleaning supplies awaiting my arrival, the past four days would have been mostly shopping instead of mostly cleaning.
Strangely, the “cleaning” part is both the most satisfying and the least gratifying. It is where one (or, at least, where I) can feel “wow – I’ve really accomplished something here today” and then, hours later, review the room as a whole and think “geez, look at all that is left to do”. Yes, lining kitchen shelves with padded shelf liner is a good thing to do, and when the job is done well, it’s easy to take a step back and feel a true sense of accomplishment. After a few hours, when it occurs to me that all I’ve done is lined the shelves and drawers, it can be disheartening. However, unlike the work I have done in homes in the past, this is my home and there’s no timeline. I’ll be finished when I’m finished. There’s no deadline and no airplane will be cutting my work short of completion. It will be done when I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished.
Like any home, there are also the unknown surprises (which light switch controls the lights in the laundry room? How does the fan in the kitchen work? Where does the washing machine drain out?) but each one brings an answer in time (I still have no idea about the light switch, the fan works by pulling the chain and is VERY effective, and the washing machine will drain out all over the basement floor if I don’t bend the drainage hose correctly). I am nowhere near discouraged in these discoveries – quite the opposite actually. If the light in the laundry room doesn’t work yet, it will be a good rainy-day testing process and if the washing machine hose flops out from the drainage sink and floods the floor, well then basically my attitude is “ta-da, I’ve just washed the floor!"
If all this sounds like roses and sunshine, I suppose it is. I’m not so naïve to think that there will be NO stumbling blocks in the days and weeks (and months and years) to come. But I suppose, as I take a moment to look around my new kitchen, I am just more at ease realizing I now have the best-lined kitchen shelves that I’ve ever had.
And that’s enough for today.
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(Written on Sept 30 at 11am ... and posted from a coffee shop a week later because duh - new home, no Internet)
Making do with what I brought with me has turned out to be easier than I expected, but that’s mostly because of the advance work that was done prior to my arrival, and I’m very grateful for that work. Without the lanterns, my only light in the evenings would come from my PDA. Without the air mattresses, the first few days of sleep would have been not as luxurious as it was (happily the new bed has now been delivered). Without the mass amount of cleaning supplies awaiting my arrival, the past four days would have been mostly shopping instead of mostly cleaning.
Strangely, the “cleaning” part is both the most satisfying and the least gratifying. It is where one (or, at least, where I) can feel “wow – I’ve really accomplished something here today” and then, hours later, review the room as a whole and think “geez, look at all that is left to do”. Yes, lining kitchen shelves with padded shelf liner is a good thing to do, and when the job is done well, it’s easy to take a step back and feel a true sense of accomplishment. After a few hours, when it occurs to me that all I’ve done is lined the shelves and drawers, it can be disheartening. However, unlike the work I have done in homes in the past, this is my home and there’s no timeline. I’ll be finished when I’m finished. There’s no deadline and no airplane will be cutting my work short of completion. It will be done when I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished.
Like any home, there are also the unknown surprises (which light switch controls the lights in the laundry room? How does the fan in the kitchen work? Where does the washing machine drain out?) but each one brings an answer in time (I still have no idea about the light switch, the fan works by pulling the chain and is VERY effective, and the washing machine will drain out all over the basement floor if I don’t bend the drainage hose correctly). I am nowhere near discouraged in these discoveries – quite the opposite actually. If the light in the laundry room doesn’t work yet, it will be a good rainy-day testing process and if the washing machine hose flops out from the drainage sink and floods the floor, well then basically my attitude is “ta-da, I’ve just washed the floor!"
If all this sounds like roses and sunshine, I suppose it is. I’m not so naïve to think that there will be NO stumbling blocks in the days and weeks (and months and years) to come. But I suppose, as I take a moment to look around my new kitchen, I am just more at ease realizing I now have the best-lined kitchen shelves that I’ve ever had.
And that’s enough for today.
*****************
(Written on Sept 30 at 11am ... and posted from a coffee shop a week later because duh - new home, no Internet)
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