622: Time for bed

Today is not my day.

First, when I got to the gym, my key scanner would not unlock the door. This is not cool. Another patron let me in, since I obviously was a member – how else did I get a key scanner? So I did my workout, and waited for the office to open, when the lady told me that I wasn’t actually a member, and that’s why they cancelled my key scanner thingy. Two days ago.¬† WHAT???!?!?!?!?

*sigh* So, I signed up again. I don’t remember cancelling¬† the membership, and I thought I was being monthly deducted for the last three years’ worth of membership, but apparently…..not.

Then, off to the dollar store to return a carton of juice that had a pinhole leak, and had spoiled before I opened it, and a hand soap dispenser that would not pump the soap. Exchange made, no problem. Made the trip home safely.

I am a person who makes as many trips back and forth from the car to the house as it takes – unlike my hubs, who HAS TO GET IT ALL INSIDE THE HOUSE IN ONE TRIP. This time, I drop a bag on the way in – and break the soap dispenser I just got replaced for a working one (verified working in the store). *sigh*

Then, I drop another bag, and break the size large bottle of scented oil just inside the door way, which now smells just lovely, thank you. *sigh* And I spilled my coffee on the way to the kitchen counter. *sigh*


I think I am calling this day a wash, and going back to bed. Tomorrow is another day, Miz Scarlett…..


621: House, interrupted

Hubs and I are fixing up a foreclosure house we bought. I SAY “we,” but most of it is me. He helps when asked for the heavy stuff, or the stuff I cannot do by myself, but mostly, it’s me. He says that’s because I am in charge of the house – which, technically, is mostly true. Still – he lives here, too, and abdicating all responsibility for the stuff that needs doing is pretty annoying sometimes. Still, when I am working, I do admit to getting in my solo groove – I suppose because there isn’t any other alternative? And, getting it done myself does mean it is done to my standards, which might be the whole crux of the matter.

Over the months since we bought this house, we have had the roof replaced, the kitchen gutted and redone (new cabinets, kitchen appliances, flooring and ceiling), more flooring, a hot water heater, washer/dryer, more flooring, painted walls and ceilings and trim, bathroom caulking, painting, new doors, new locksets and deadbolts, more flooring. More trim. More painting.


Lighting fixtures, more walls, ceilings and trim painting. Curtains, drapes, sheers, rods, brackets. More painting. Salvaged kitchen cabinets that now are storage for a craft room that someone else might use as a bedroom or a nursery. Caulking, running trim, painting trim. Sweeping, hauling debris. Calling for repair, and more estimates. Running to the store for more materials. Again.

There’s always something else to be done: paint, hemming the window treatment curtains, straightening up, cleaning up, unpacking, sorting, putting away, not to mention the usual stuff, like a load of laundry, or repairing garments that have popped a seam, lost a button, or pulled loose a strap or snap.

If I sit down, I pretty rapidly become a cat’s bed, since one of the two resident felines claims my lap. Nothing gets done unless I do it.

If I sit down, nothing else gets done. It waits on me.

It is a darn good thing that this isn’t a contest with any sort of deadline.