That's when you break out the treats and make them think it was their idea to get down.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
If I get in bed first....
It's not such a big problem. Only two cats are allowed to sleep with me: Ditz behind my knees, and Ivan at my chest. But the problem is, what if they all get there first?
That's when you break out the treats and make them think it was their idea to get down.
That's when you break out the treats and make them think it was their idea to get down.
Monday, January 18, 2010
When I wake up melancholy
It doesn't happen often, I suppose, but I'm sure it happens to all of us. When you wake up in the morning, you sometimes wake up tired, you sometimes wake up dreading work, you sometimes wake up looking forward to the day, or pleased that it's the weekend.
And sometimes you wake up sad.
Yeah, it's probably just hormones, but nonetheless you've got to live with it. You can give in to it, and mope about all day, being unproductive and making everyone else miserable, too. You end up asleep on the couch for half the day, then wake up angry with yourself for having wasted a whole day. Or you can declare war on it, go out with friends or go shopping, do something aggressively "fun" to derail the sad start of your day, and attempt to end the day happy, or at least sort of manically and hilariously unbalanced.
Or you can take advantage of the fact that you are feeling low and address all those mundane tasks that are wasted on happiness anyway.
I brewed a large pot of coffee.
I lit the candles in the house. For some reason, candles always make me content.
I then set to work covering up the last of the yellow in the kitchen and the hallway to the bathroom and stairs. I was surprised at how relieved I felt when it was finally erased. I started some laundry, stripped my bed, and wandered around the kitchen with a paint brush, looking for thin spots.
The sun came pouring in around noon. Bear was in and out. We did the "mouse dance" at the door more than once.
I picked away at work email.
It was tempting to just stay inside and continue to drudge away at indoor tasks but the bird feeders were empty again and the recycling needed to go out. Also, we all know the best thing to do when you are down-and-out, although sometimes it takes a boot in the ass to get a going.
A walk. Poor Molly has been neglected.
It wasn't a long walk. The snow and ice is melting, so it was pretty slippery going. At least Molly got to bounce around and stick her head in the snow. I got to feel the sun and listen to the creeks roar. When you are feeling out-of-sorts, unpleasant tasks sort of roll right off you, so I grabbed the shovel and took care of the "when the snow melts it becomes apparent you own a dog" issue near the porch.
Sadness is also best treated with tea (mint) and the newspaper (delivered daily). And creativity. In celebration of the working fan (and it does move the air perfectly! It's 76 degrees in her now instead of 68), I grabbed my last piece of FIMO clay and made a pull-chain kitty.
I then went through my cupboards and the refrigerator for all those leftover Christmas cooking items (nuts, dried fruit, etc.) that had or were about to go bad, or at least become stale. I scattered dates, cranberries, and walnuts around for the deer. I took the remaining pecans and attempted to make maple sugar pecans in the oven, but they were still too stale, so the deer got those, too.
I took care of the cats in the cat facility (sunshine! it sure cheers the place up!), hauled wood, and broke open an old paint can to paint a section of wainscoting near the bathroom that somehow has been missed for almost ten years.
It's amazing what we tolerate in the name of "I'll do it someday." Well, it's done.
Basically I pushed the day away one hour at a time (even scattering ashes on the driveway well after dark just to have one more thing done).
If you are going to be bummed, it should at least serve some purpose.
And here it is, after a night's sleep, the next day, and I did NOT wake up sad.
There you go. Just one day at a time.
Do you have any tricks for dealing with a case of the blahs?
And sometimes you wake up sad.
Yeah, it's probably just hormones, but nonetheless you've got to live with it. You can give in to it, and mope about all day, being unproductive and making everyone else miserable, too. You end up asleep on the couch for half the day, then wake up angry with yourself for having wasted a whole day. Or you can declare war on it, go out with friends or go shopping, do something aggressively "fun" to derail the sad start of your day, and attempt to end the day happy, or at least sort of manically and hilariously unbalanced.
Or you can take advantage of the fact that you are feeling low and address all those mundane tasks that are wasted on happiness anyway.
I brewed a large pot of coffee.
I lit the candles in the house. For some reason, candles always make me content.
I then set to work covering up the last of the yellow in the kitchen and the hallway to the bathroom and stairs. I was surprised at how relieved I felt when it was finally erased. I started some laundry, stripped my bed, and wandered around the kitchen with a paint brush, looking for thin spots.
The sun came pouring in around noon. Bear was in and out. We did the "mouse dance" at the door more than once.
I picked away at work email.
It was tempting to just stay inside and continue to drudge away at indoor tasks but the bird feeders were empty again and the recycling needed to go out. Also, we all know the best thing to do when you are down-and-out, although sometimes it takes a boot in the ass to get a going.
A walk. Poor Molly has been neglected.
It wasn't a long walk. The snow and ice is melting, so it was pretty slippery going. At least Molly got to bounce around and stick her head in the snow. I got to feel the sun and listen to the creeks roar. When you are feeling out-of-sorts, unpleasant tasks sort of roll right off you, so I grabbed the shovel and took care of the "when the snow melts it becomes apparent you own a dog" issue near the porch.
Sadness is also best treated with tea (mint) and the newspaper (delivered daily). And creativity. In celebration of the working fan (and it does move the air perfectly! It's 76 degrees in her now instead of 68), I grabbed my last piece of FIMO clay and made a pull-chain kitty.
I then went through my cupboards and the refrigerator for all those leftover Christmas cooking items (nuts, dried fruit, etc.) that had or were about to go bad, or at least become stale. I scattered dates, cranberries, and walnuts around for the deer. I took the remaining pecans and attempted to make maple sugar pecans in the oven, but they were still too stale, so the deer got those, too.
I took care of the cats in the cat facility (sunshine! it sure cheers the place up!), hauled wood, and broke open an old paint can to paint a section of wainscoting near the bathroom that somehow has been missed for almost ten years.
It's amazing what we tolerate in the name of "I'll do it someday." Well, it's done.
Basically I pushed the day away one hour at a time (even scattering ashes on the driveway well after dark just to have one more thing done).
If you are going to be bummed, it should at least serve some purpose.
And here it is, after a night's sleep, the next day, and I did NOT wake up sad.
There you go. Just one day at a time.
Do you have any tricks for dealing with a case of the blahs?
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Fan, continued, and local boys in longjohns
9:41 am - The coffee is brewed, and the blanket-covered chair attests to the fact that yes, at 3:15 am a 20-something young man did in fact show up on my porch in ratty longjohns and workboots, apologizing profusely and begging to use the phone. He made the call on the porch while I got my gun and the blanket. I'm still wondering what that was all about.
9:42: I now own a wire-stripper and know how to use it.
10:05: Do I stuff all these wires through the hole back up into the box, or just leave them in the body of the fan? I guess this is why they have on here "If you are unfamiliar with wiring, you should use a qualified electrician."
10:16: It would appear to me that when I lift this fan to screw it to the ceiling plate, it is going to come unhooked from the support hook, and I'm going to be holding the fan up with one hand?
10:20: I was right, and I dropped a screw. These tiny things are really the only thing holding that up there? Who designs these things? I hope the screws are made out of titanium or something.
10:24: I dropped a screw again, this time inside the fan. Which mean I must disconnect all the wires, take it down, and shake the screw out. I believe this is where other people start drinking again. Thank goodness for coffee and blogs.
11:04: Hey, pretty! I could wimp out now and not install the light...
11:40: OK, enjoy this photo before I blow it up when I turn the power back on:
11:42: It works! It works! It works!
The kittens find it fascinating. The adult cats could care less.
There. Now my long-suffering family and friends no longer have to hear about the damned fan, and I have more space in my closet!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Installing the fan from hell.
This is the ceiling fan that has lived in my closet for four years. It's intended for the den, so that all the heat from the woodstove doesn't sit up by the ceiling. My ex attempted to install it many moons ago, when I wasn't home (he had installed the other fans in our house). For some reason he aborted the venture and said something about needing a new ceiling plate because this one was bent.
2:15 - Ventured into scary spider basement, located breaker for ceiling outlet in the den, and turned it off. Whoo hoo! Got the right one the first try!
2:20 - Banged out the dents in fan ceiling plate with hammer. I'm assuming that shortly I will discover what problem Mark ran into that resulted in these dents.
2:30 - My ladder is too short. Go out the barn for the 6' ladder. On the way, I am thoroughly scolded by chickadees who point out the feeders have been empty for TWO WHOLE DAYS! Grab the feeders as I go to the barn. Discover two pigeons in the barn ($#%#!!!) who frantically fly about when I enter. As I fill the feeders from the garbage can in the old chicken coops, pigeons freak and white stuff comes splattering down. I scream a stream of swear words, including the "F" word, until I realize the white stuff is just snow. I can't find the ladder. I leave the barn, warning the pigeons they will soon be owl food if they don't move out before nightfall.
2:40 - Where the hell is the ladder?
2:45 - Walk around my house, thinking maybe I used the ladder when I painted the house this summer? I do this in Crocs, no less. Stupid!
2:46 - WHERE THE HELL IS THE LADDER!!!!
2:59 - After checking the barn again, walking around the house again (with proper shoes on) I admit I am unable to locate either of the two six foot wooden ladders I should own. I close my eyes, count to ten, and tell myself that my ex would not possibly have taken them both. I'm sure I'll find at least one. I always do this--put something somewhere odd. It was not stolen, because if anyone stole the 6' ladder, the would have taken my extension ladders as well. I venture into the spider basement for the 4'ladder so covered with dead spiders that I have not touched it for four years. Ugh!!!!!
3:00 - Are you tired of hearing about ladders yet? Well, how do you think I feel!!!!
3:01 - Why isn't the washer working? Oh, look, the den light breaker also apparently controls the outlets in the bathroom. Now, doesn't that make sense? Not.
3:05 - Suffer my first injury, a tiny cut on my ring finger, grabbing the spider ladder as I descend. Get a band-aid.
3:17 - Discover the brass screwheads are completely stripped. Hmmm...we get closer to the source of my ex's previous frustration. Do I have anymore brass screws anywhere? Do they have to be brass?
3:27 - Found two really long screws. They aren't brass. Is this whole thing really held up by just two screws? That's scary. What happens if you add more? Totally creeped out, I do find two long brass screws, but add two more small brass ones.
4:10 -
"Now you are ready to wire the fan." (shivers) I am still totally perplexed by the bent plate and stripped screws. Maybe his power screwdriver was slipping? Oh well! I'm using a regular hand screwdriver and while it took some sweat, the screws went in. There were already pilot holes drilled in the support beam that Mark had already installed.
4:28 - It's hanging up there and I'm reading the wiring chart. I think I have it down. Now I know why guys get to a certain point in their house improvements and start drinking. Luckily I have no alcohol in the house.
4:37 - The kittens are awake and appear very nervous.
4:48 - I don't own a wire-stripper, and it is too dark for me to use the jack knife. So I guess this is it for tonight. I'll stop at Home Depot when I go into Ithaca tonight to see Nancy's concert. Luckily one wall outlet works so I have a single light, and my computer is plugged into the kitchen anyway. The wash will just have to sit in the washer until tomorrow.
4:50 - I have found a lite beer in my fridge.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Three day weekend coming up...
...and so much to do.
Here's the opal kitchen:
Here's the previous cheerful version.
I'll finish it up this weekend, which means painting the ceiling. Groan.
Here's the opal kitchen:
Here's the previous cheerful version.
I'll finish it up this weekend, which means painting the ceiling. Groan.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Painting over more memories
So, I'm finally painting the kitchen.
For those of you who know me in an other-than-internet manner, you'll know that the kitchen is sunny yellow. A yellow that, like the dark green of the den, Mark picked out. It's actually a yellow that suits the room, just as the dark green suits the den. He even wanted a brighter shade (that probably would have been fine) but a yellow titled "Beach Ball" frightened me a bit.
With ivory wainscoting, it's quite nice. But it's also quite dirty. And back when I was in the "every memory of the man must go" stage, I bought two gallons of pale yellow paint, called "opal cream," with plans to keep the yellow theme, but go far lighter.
I was going to paint the den copper, but finally came to my senses. The room was beautiful in dark green, and to destroy beauty just because you didn't want to think of the person who made the decision...well, that was just plain stupid. Instead I moved the furniture, made it my winter bedroom/office, got my cushy furniture, and enjoyed the hunter green in a way I never had before.
The kitchen...well, the kitchen deserved the same. Yellow was good for it. When Mark would actually say what he wanted, his instincts were damned good. I should have gone just a shade lighter instead of trying to "unyellow" it by choosing the palest option I could find.
Today I decided I couldn't let winter slide away without completing every already-paid-for home improvement on my list (and the paint was paid for), so I pulled out the gallons and popped open a top.
Hmmmm.....Opal Cream is exactly that--opal. It ain't yellow. It's, well, hand-churned butter color. Very pretty. But not yellow.
I started painting, and I stopped. The room really would have looked better yellow.
But here was $60 worth of opal paint.
I kept painting.
It is a beautiful color. A quiet, warm color. It is a grown-up, adult color. The yellow was young and cheerful.
I just am not young and cheerful anymore. Cheerful is not in my vocabulary of integrity any longer, although I can fake it fairly well.
As I painted over my cheerful yellow walls with my quiet mature opal paint, it became easier to remind myself that in two years the walls would be need to be repainted anyway, and if I were a cheerful yellow person at that time, there was no reason the kitchen couldn't become yellow again.
Paint is a wonderful thing.
The other problem with choosing pale paint is that all other surfaces also need to be redeemed. The ceiling...ick. The woodwork now looks dull. As I painted the walls, I looked at the stained wainscoting and thought "I just painted this! How can it be so filthy!"
The I realized I had last painted it when Mark said he was leaving and I thought I was going to sell the house. And that, my friends, was 1.75 years ago.
wtf?
I've been alone here for almost two years?
The fuel oil man came, filled the tank, and handed me my $800.00 fuel bill. I sat down and looked at it. I've been paying the bills, taking out the recycling, mowing the lawn, fixing the house, stacking the wood, picking away at the paint on the outside of my big red farmhouse for almost two years?
Huh.
It occurs to me, though the bank account is low, that I am rich. Very rich. I look up, and that opal paint looks better and better. I'm look forward to spring when I'll see the grass ripple back into green and I can tackle the gardens again and paint the final peaks on the house.
The yellow was all a lie anyway. He hated these walls, hated this house, hated this farm, and hated me.
Good riddance.
Post Note: Morning, the next day. LOL! Just a little baggage, Susan? And I wasn't blogging while drinking wine, either. Too expensive anymore. :)
For those of you who know me in an other-than-internet manner, you'll know that the kitchen is sunny yellow. A yellow that, like the dark green of the den, Mark picked out. It's actually a yellow that suits the room, just as the dark green suits the den. He even wanted a brighter shade (that probably would have been fine) but a yellow titled "Beach Ball" frightened me a bit.
With ivory wainscoting, it's quite nice. But it's also quite dirty. And back when I was in the "every memory of the man must go" stage, I bought two gallons of pale yellow paint, called "opal cream," with plans to keep the yellow theme, but go far lighter.
I was going to paint the den copper, but finally came to my senses. The room was beautiful in dark green, and to destroy beauty just because you didn't want to think of the person who made the decision...well, that was just plain stupid. Instead I moved the furniture, made it my winter bedroom/office, got my cushy furniture, and enjoyed the hunter green in a way I never had before.
The kitchen...well, the kitchen deserved the same. Yellow was good for it. When Mark would actually say what he wanted, his instincts were damned good. I should have gone just a shade lighter instead of trying to "unyellow" it by choosing the palest option I could find.
Today I decided I couldn't let winter slide away without completing every already-paid-for home improvement on my list (and the paint was paid for), so I pulled out the gallons and popped open a top.
Hmmmm.....Opal Cream is exactly that--opal. It ain't yellow. It's, well, hand-churned butter color. Very pretty. But not yellow.
I started painting, and I stopped. The room really would have looked better yellow.
But here was $60 worth of opal paint.
I kept painting.
It is a beautiful color. A quiet, warm color. It is a grown-up, adult color. The yellow was young and cheerful.
I just am not young and cheerful anymore. Cheerful is not in my vocabulary of integrity any longer, although I can fake it fairly well.
As I painted over my cheerful yellow walls with my quiet mature opal paint, it became easier to remind myself that in two years the walls would be need to be repainted anyway, and if I were a cheerful yellow person at that time, there was no reason the kitchen couldn't become yellow again.
Paint is a wonderful thing.
The other problem with choosing pale paint is that all other surfaces also need to be redeemed. The ceiling...ick. The woodwork now looks dull. As I painted the walls, I looked at the stained wainscoting and thought "I just painted this! How can it be so filthy!"
The I realized I had last painted it when Mark said he was leaving and I thought I was going to sell the house. And that, my friends, was 1.75 years ago.
wtf?
I've been alone here for almost two years?
The fuel oil man came, filled the tank, and handed me my $800.00 fuel bill. I sat down and looked at it. I've been paying the bills, taking out the recycling, mowing the lawn, fixing the house, stacking the wood, picking away at the paint on the outside of my big red farmhouse for almost two years?
Huh.
It occurs to me, though the bank account is low, that I am rich. Very rich. I look up, and that opal paint looks better and better. I'm look forward to spring when I'll see the grass ripple back into green and I can tackle the gardens again and paint the final peaks on the house.
The yellow was all a lie anyway. He hated these walls, hated this house, hated this farm, and hated me.
Good riddance.
Post Note: Morning, the next day. LOL! Just a little baggage, Susan? And I wasn't blogging while drinking wine, either. Too expensive anymore. :)
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Another one of those weekends.
You know, the ones where you vow to "get organized," "finish tasks," "organize the house...."
Blah, blah, blah.
This morning I actually did get my butt moving at 5:30 am. However, that was only because I fell asleep in my clothes at 12:30 am with the radio on. I forced myself to crawl off the bed as the early morning DJ launched into a phone interview with Governor Patterson. The DJ started out comparing the governor's entrance for the State of the State address to something that had to do with football (I think? I was half asleep...) and the governor responded with something like "I don't mean to be disrespectful..."
By all means, be disrespectful! Be disrespectful! I turned the radio to another station--not because I couldn't stand to listen to a politician--but because I couldn't endure the questions our media tend to pitch their way.
So by 7:00 am I'd been out to the cats, dragged some more things out of the pantry to Craigslist (baskets, cookie tins, etc.), fed the birds, and put a very belated Christmas card containing a gas card in the mailbox for my neglected postal person.
To do list for the weekend:
Finish cleaning the pantry
Take down the Christmas decorations
Fix up a sleeping box in the barn for the cat someone dumped here last week
Go to Ithaca to feed the Fast Food Ferals and South Hill cats (done)
Clean the house
Bring in wood (done, but always continuing)
Looking at the flakes coming down...shovel snow. (done)
Go the post office and renew my PO Boxes (work, and Wildrun)(done)
Update my Petfinder account
Put in another round of advertisements to find homes for these last kittens
If I don't use it and it's in the way or taking up space -- sell it.
And as always...paperwork.
Added:
Make some more little FIMO kitties (done)
Finally get holiday present/cards to my postal person and newspaper deliverer (done)
Pack up M&T's Christmas present (done)
I'm finally getting to the point where most of the things in the house are things that have a purpose. Other than my photo albums, I've finally divested of most of the things that reminded me of married life.
I feel like I'm finally getting to the point that other people got to a decade or more earlier in their lives. Maybe not.
Yeah, maybe so.
Blah, blah, blah.
This morning I actually did get my butt moving at 5:30 am. However, that was only because I fell asleep in my clothes at 12:30 am with the radio on. I forced myself to crawl off the bed as the early morning DJ launched into a phone interview with Governor Patterson. The DJ started out comparing the governor's entrance for the State of the State address to something that had to do with football (I think? I was half asleep...) and the governor responded with something like "I don't mean to be disrespectful..."
By all means, be disrespectful! Be disrespectful! I turned the radio to another station--not because I couldn't stand to listen to a politician--but because I couldn't endure the questions our media tend to pitch their way.
So by 7:00 am I'd been out to the cats, dragged some more things out of the pantry to Craigslist (baskets, cookie tins, etc.), fed the birds, and put a very belated Christmas card containing a gas card in the mailbox for my neglected postal person.
To do list for the weekend:
Finish cleaning the pantry
Take down the Christmas decorations
Fix up a sleeping box in the barn for the cat someone dumped here last week
Go to Ithaca to feed the Fast Food Ferals and South Hill cats (done)
Clean the house
Bring in wood (done, but always continuing)
Looking at the flakes coming down...shovel snow. (done)
Go the post office and renew my PO Boxes (work, and Wildrun)(done)
Update my Petfinder account
Put in another round of advertisements to find homes for these last kittens
If I don't use it and it's in the way or taking up space -- sell it.
And as always...paperwork.
Added:
Make some more little FIMO kitties (done)
Finally get holiday present/cards to my postal person and newspaper deliverer (done)
Pack up M&T's Christmas present (done)
I'm finally getting to the point where most of the things in the house are things that have a purpose. Other than my photo albums, I've finally divested of most of the things that reminded me of married life.
I feel like I'm finally getting to the point that other people got to a decade or more earlier in their lives. Maybe not.
Yeah, maybe so.
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