When my daughter said goodbye early this morning on her way to the bus stop, she happily said, "Remember to write today!" It made me feel elated that she left feeling like she was helping me to be happy and that she reached out to me instead of just worrying about herself, as most teenagers would, as I would have at her age. Then panic set in -- "I have nothing to write about!" And I don't. But I remind myself that's OK. I will write anyway about whatever pops in my head. You may want to skip reading this one...assuming anyone out there is reading this.
The thing that popped into my head immediately as I swung my feet below me, too short to touch the ground, is that once again, someone took my little foot stool from under my desk and put it somewhere else. Maybe it was me, my memory is too weak to remember. It drives me nuts to sit down and not have my feet touch the ground. I am definitely a shorty. I feel like a child with my feet swinging freely.
Wow. I just got up to turn on a light - it's so early the house is still dim with no lights on. I am writing in an extra bedroom that I am in the middle of painting. I am painting it stark white for now because I have white paint, and it was white before. The paint is low VOC so there's little toxic odor. I can paint without a mask over my face and with no risk of having an asthma attack from the fumes. When I sat back down in my chair in this messy room, I glanced over at the closet, one sliding door in sight, covered in a cool Monet print I bought about 8 years ago before I started dating my husband, intended to bring me peace; the other hidden door was slid behind the door of peace, betraying the cluttered mess behind the calm: an empty XBox box, a Super Speedway box belonging to my son rediculously hiding in my husband's closet, no doubt at my request forgotten years ago, a camborder box, my camera box, several boxes labelled "Sony," and several clear boxes with label-maker labels stacked on shelves attempting to control the chaos while displaying unfolded clothes inside and covered in miscellaneous clutter on top. I will close the door....
I really do have nothing in mind to talk about today. I have a long list of things I want to do around the house even though we have decided not to move. The list - I will try to use adjectives to at least attempt to be a good writer through this exercise in perserverence - there's another word for it - diffence (no, that's shyness) - I will get a thesarus - I only found tenacious, but that's not the word I'm thinking of. It is one of my daughter's vocabulary words that is lost in the file cabinet of my mind.
As for tasks I need to do, I need to finish the door trim to my front door. I had two handymen come out to my house three times over the last several weeks, along with a plumber and a carpet stretcher. All the carpet stretcher does is stretch carpets. He charged me about $400 to stretch and reinstall the carpets in four rooms in my house, which he did with incredible efficiency, making more than $200 an hour. I was suprised to see that he didn't use knee pads and asked him about it. Apparently, he is risking his knees to do his job faster. I told him my mom's knee replacement surgery was no picnic, attempting to not be too motherly. He told me the stretcher works better if you don't have pads on your knees. Wow, what a choice. It's like being a police officer and opting out of wearing the bullet-proof vest so you can run faster, which you can do without the vest. But you can't run if you are shot, and you can't be a carpet-stretcher if you destroy your knees. It's funny the sacrifices people make for their jobs, to preserve their identities, how nearsighted (myopic?) people are sometimes.
Urrrgh. My husband just walked into the hallway to get a towel. It's exactly two minutes from the time I planned to wake up my son to get a bath. I don't know which one needs a shower more. Everyone in my house has been putting off showers as long as possible, especially over the weekend when we just have to smell each other and not risk offending everyone else in our lives. We have 2.5 baths but are down to one shower. I asked the handymen if they could seal the shower in the master bathroom, which is the best shower spot for everyone. (I know some people don't let the kids in the master bath, but we do - all the space is for everyone in my mind.) I was hoping they would have a wonderful solution. Grout isn't possible since it's plastic walls on plastic base. Caulk doesn't normally hold. As soon as someone puts a hand on one of the walls with too much steam in the air, the caulk gives. The senior handyman said silicone caulk would do it. I thought maybe he could do it in a way that would work better, that it was definitely in the realm of possibility that I was just doing it wrong since I was self-taught. I have found that bathtub tape designed for tub and shower surrounds works best for this irritating shower, but I can never seem to make the corners pretty. I let them go for it - two days later, the caulk gave out. So we are down to one shower, waiting for me to reapply the tape. First I have to eliminate the remains of the silicone caulk, which is a hard job - the internet says it's impossible, which makes the job a little daunting.
My wrists are sore. My laptop has a wrist rest that's not depressed.
My apologies for the rambling if anyone read this. At least I wrote something....
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