Painting the basement with Mason has been exceedingly quick and painless. This would be a good thing at any time; now it's an especially good thing because Blake comes back tomorrow and all this stuff was supposed to be done in his absence. That's just my own personal anxiety, though: he'll be thrilled to see the basement all re-arranged, with painting to be done. I'm not sure how I'll keep him away from the worksite. Long, exhausting play dates? Extended periods of time in the backyard? Bribery?

At any rate, it all has to be done before the end of the month, when my brother may be moving in. Why do my summers always begin with infinite space to grow and end up squinched up and stressed?

Labels: angst, house

I spent all day helping to assemble useful Things. One is a bookshelf for Blake's closet that will allow me to get all of his books and magazines off tables, nightstands and high shelves; also, I can move his board books to a different location altogether.

The other shelving unit was for the kitchen. I had an idea that I'd put up a corner unit that would hold my cookbooks, but what I took home from Ikea turned out to be only big enough for trade paperbacks. Fail. So I filled it in with a small cookbook, a food memoir, a weight loss memoir, a biography of a food writer, etc. It was so much less satisfying than I thought it would be, and yet I probably created a good home for the goldfish I plan to buy at the end of the summer.

Mason installed his magnetic knife strip on the cupboard so that the big deadly knives can get out of the drawer. And then we put up rod holders so that I can have curtains in my bedroom. They'll be hemmed quite short to accommodate the bed directly below the window, but in the summer I move across the room to free up the heater so I can have different, longer panels. I wonder if having two! two!! two!!! sets of curtains will be as exciting and fulfilling as I think it will be?

Labels: books, house

Hey, look at me: not dead. I've felt sick even unto death for a good long while, which put a serious crimp into my extracurricular activities, but I'm better now. My getting-better started with a long doctor's appointment on the 20th, and the very next day everything was at least 300% better (despite struggling to get my reports in a day late, with all the stress that implies. Stupid double-damned report cards, from the fires of hell I stab at thee.)

The next week was devoted to the nature problem in my house, which started with the fact that I haven't felt well enough to do chores since February. Everything took a sharp turn for the worse when I discovered mouse leavings in my kitchen cupboards at the beginning of April but was too nauseous to deal with it until after the 20th. I still haven't cleaned out all of my cupboards and my cutlery is on the counter, but I'm pleased to report we caught a big fat mouse in the crawlspace and that may be the end of the problem.

Oh, and a determined skunk has been ripping up my lawn all spring in search of grubs. One night I watched the skunk fight off a raccoon and another skunk - apparently I have quite the delicious lawn grubs. Dealing with this has involved lots of cayenne pepper, but not a lot of results. So I'm mad at my house right now.

I'm continuing to surf the ups and downs of medication withdrawal. I'm discovered the rather unpleasant fact that all of the work I thought I'd done on myself and my dead marriage was apparently contingent on chemicals. Now that I'm on the other side, I'm angry, sad & anxious once more. Clearly I need to revisit this, but I'm not going back to my counselor. It's not his fault that the marriage counseling didn't take - I know that - but as a solo counselor he didn't inspire much confidence either. The problem is that, unless I get a prescription from an MD, I have to go through my employee program, and I've already burned through two out of their three pet docs. I'm not all that certain that the third will be any more useful than the first two.

Yesterday, while I was home from work, I ran a few long-overdue errands, including paying off both of my lawyers. Now I'm wondering if my separation lawyer can give me a counseling referral; she did, after all, like the black linen scarf I made her, and she must know a few counselors in her line of work. I can't be the only separated chick who needs her head shrunk.

Labels: angst, health, house

Rough day today, my first full day back with Blake. I'm trying to tail off the medication I've been taking for more than a year, and the kid just will not stop talking about how much he'd rather be at his dad's place. Without another adult around, his little voice just bounces off my insecurities and the echoes are monstrous. I tried to explain to him that he was hurting my feelings, but he doesn't seem able to stop. I haven't been this ambivalent about mothering since the days he use to smile and gouge big nail tracks down my face, apropos of nothing.

When I wasn't completely losing my stuff and crying bitter tears, I was throwing myself into rehabilitating my upstairs bathroom. I don't usually do a full clean when I wash the bathrooms; I clean the high traffic area and call it good. Yesterday, as I was getting ready to host my troupe, I realized that the bathroom had slid beyond disreputable to wholly degraded. The shower curtain sheltered mildew and hung unevenly from a half-dozen surviving rings. The ring around the bathtub had established squatter's rights and occasionally ordered in a pizza. There was some weird reddish stuff on the tub. The windowsill was caked with soap and what I hoped was dirt from the other side of the screen. Sometime in the last few weeks, I managed to knock toilet paper dispenser right off the wall, and it hung around on the back of the toilet. There was some sticky orange stuff gunked onto the green bathmat. The sink stopper did its job too well and refused to drain. Everything was dank.

And, except for the sink stopper, I've fixed everything. The whole shower area is clean, including the shower curtain, which has been spruced up with new rings. The windowsill has been cleared of shampoo and soap, which is in a newfangled shower caddy. Toilet paper proceeds orderly from its old perch on the wall, and there's even a new storage thingee under it to hold new rolls. Everything is clean. I just need to pry up the sink plug before the accumulating toothpaste scum spoils my feeling of accomplishment.

Labels: blake, health, house

Thanks to the gals at MDK, I was so deeply smitten with the ballband washcloths that I tried the 9-patch as well. It's definitely my weirdest washcloth, but very beautiful. I very slowly worked away at the ends for awhile, forgot about it for a few months when I moved, then finished it in a burst. What can I say: with no deadline, I'm lazy.

It's made up of leftovers from all over: turquoise cotton bought for Stacy's cellphone cozy, white cotton bought (but not used) for the Henry Rollins doll, variegated cotton from the Boy's "I will only buy yarn for 3 dollars or less" knitting phase and what remains of the green cotton for Pixie's pixie hat. It's rather lovely.

Labels: fo, house, mdk

completed june 3.

The house insanity continues with the newest addition to the washcloth family! I love the nubby feel of these washcloths, so I made another one to match the Blake's bathroom. Leftover cottons were "carefully" selected for only the finest decor-matching schmatta. But seriously, folks...I shouldn't find it odd that all these colours were hanging around my stash; of course I'm going to buy colours that I like. The Boy gets credit for the pastel variegated and for pressing the completed cloth into service immediately, Mason-Dixon Knitting gets credit for the pattern, and I get credit for making it in the first place.

action shot!

Labels: fo, house, mdk, repeats