Catch Up

Truth is, I no longer have the energy to go back and recount details. It’s actually unfathomable to me that this adventure is still a work-in-progress.

I just wanted to hire someone who would do what they said, when they said they would do it, finish when promised, and for the amount agreed upon. So far, only one has come through – ProTect Painters. They’re awesome; I’d recommend them. There’s still potential for others, but I find I’m adjusting my shoulders a lot, signaling defeatism. Shrugging up and down is hard on the neck  muscles. As is toting purchases to and from Lowe’s, Home Depot, World Market, Sherwin Williams and The Tile Shop. In and out of carts, car trunks, up flights of stairs and ramps, down flights of stairs and ramps with the only upside of having downsized.  At this point, I’m willing to magnify every tiny plus, and this exercise in returns has helped lower me down few pounds.

The unhappy prospect of reliving the past two month, coupled with face-to-face requests announcing others simply don’t want to hear any more about my trials, and the suggestion I stop talking about it. The first was just selfish forthcoming of a regularly single-minded person. The second may have had a bit of validity. The internet’s been abuzz with reasons, data and charts exclaiming, vent as an anger dilution-solvent does not dissipate the strength of bad feeling; rather it perpetuates them.

Temporarily subscribing to this theory, rather than torture myself or you, I’ve decided a pictorial  might be the best way to track the ups and down, the good, the bad, and the unfortunately permanently ugly. I say “permanently” mostly for the drama effect. Of course I can correct these things, as soon as I win the lottery, or perhaps get an amazing tax return for having established ownership.

So here goes: Part One – a bit of a re-cap, just to remind myself that things were actually worse. Closed October 29^th. Interviewed contractors November 5^th. Projected move-in date: December 17^th.

First Up: Bathroom Demo.

Buying into self-demolition wasn’t hard. The estimated savings was a $3,000.00 chunk of labor, and the excitement of an easy DIY. After a while, (about two weekends) of painfully slow progress, I determined I was being a little too careful  with my destruction, and I wasn’t all the comfortable working with plumbing. A few You-tube sessions later, I called in reinforcement. Two days, and a good deal of laughter later, the bath was as bare bones as possible, except for the tub. The original cause of concern was what may or may not lie beneath the old chipped steel behemoth. I figured the contractor was going to have it easy: take out the tub, inspect the floor, install a shower. Boom, done. This would be preceded by flooring, followed by flooring, followed by painting, followed by fixture replacing, and moving.

Progress Pictorial:

starting point                                     concern

 

tile # 1                                                   a few more

 

 um, that’s my putty knife                     what’s left of putty knife

 

um, there goes my mallet                  shower shark

  

piles of tiles                                                         down to studs

 

sink                                                      less sink

 

no sink                                               5 layers of floor

 

less layers                                           un-finished floor

 

what was found                                     new shower

 

                                                                       plumber: all done and tested!

 wait, what’s with the bump-out?                 me: really? how’d ya do that w/o hardware?

  

what bath floor was supposed to look like      left side =  hall / right = supposed bath match

  

ordered new floor of solid-ish grey…   delivered with a “slight dye-lot issue.”

  

sink, I think                                         still trying to choose paint to replace

                                                               the seafoamingatthemouth color

  

 Quote for the Week:

Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:

ProTect Painters:  www.protectpainters.com/

Shower install $ : http://www.homeadvisor.com/cost/plumbing/install-a-shower/

How to Try on Colors:

http://www.sherwin-williams.com/homeowners/color/try-on-colors/color-matching-services/

Social Pockets

There’s a creepy email notice that arrives in my work inbox whenever an internal email address has been deactivated. Actually, there are two. One is oddly from “girlinterrupted.” But, the truly disturbing, one comes from the “bonecollector.”

I admit I’m a collector. Have been since childhood; don’t know why. I like to hunt and group. I like themes and displays, and collections of physical things: books, chickens, art supplies, fabric, which eventually find themselves in a repetitively mobile graveyard of unpacked boxes.

Paring and re-paring from move-to-move-to-move has lessened the compulsion.  Off-loading photographs of people I no longer know, tchotchkes that must have meant something at some time, and passing along books, and dishes and clothing have all helped free-up living space and cut-down on dusting. Now I only have a collection of non-things.

Cyber bogs clog up hours, to the point where they make my to-do list. Delete extra duplicate music files, back-up blog, organize pictures, back-up picture, sift through communications, save the ones worth saving, use or lose lists of sayings. Figure out where the 426 unread emails I have are hiding, delete daily coupons “good only for today.”

I arrived at Facebook after-hours, late to the party. I was tardy to Twitter, undeniably late to Linked-In, intrigued by Etsy, and passively able to lose myself for hours in Pinterest. I haven’t yet Snap-chatted, Insta-grammed, Flickered, Tumblr-ed  or  You-tubed. For a while I was active in Meet-Up; fruitfully engaged in Event-Brite. That’s where I found The Minimalists and the concept of lessening… things. But, as noted, I don’t have much in the thing department anymore, that I’m willing to part with, just yet. I’m against wastefulness and am satisfyingly content with just letting what I have wind its way down to non-replacement.

I’ve got Rocketmail, G-mail, Yahoo, Viber, text and voice mail, and a need-to-check running track rotation Every time I complete a lap, I feel compelled to circle back, start over, travel the same field. It’s honestly not good to check in once a week or a few times yearly to organizational accounts like the non-profit I belong to or my one devoted to my other life, not completely past. Expirations abound.

In the same breath, I know; something’s gotta go. Staying on top of the media cycle that drives publicity and engagement, there are expectations to meet. Rumoured wanings, declinations of non-seasonal Facebook followers may only be made up to lure traffic elsewhere. If it’s true, though, that the summer off-ers aren’t coming back in winter, I’m not sure what way I’ll go. I’m rather fond of Twitter for the conciseness required. The word-game challenge is how to say as little as possible with the most impact.

Having six social pockets is like wearing a pair of complex painter’s pants. Adding one more might lead to the need for carpenter coveralls, just for the extra front-load storage space. My phone has become a travel extension. It’s like carrying a suitcase and stopping every ten minutes to be sure something isn’t broken, hasn’t been missed.

So, I’ve got some research to do; figuring out the mass demographics of age and aim in the cyber info world, and where to find the people I need to find for the organizations I support. I’m pretty sure, following research will be a calendar not dissimilar to the one I have now, only more… filled.

Monday: One Brick Detroit Newsletter.

Tuesday: Knabble blog.

Wednesday: Condo Chronicles (updates forthcoming).

Thursday: One Brick Facebook audience engagement.

Something’s gonna win Friday, possibly even Sunday.

Not Saturday, though. There’s life to live.

 

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

Word Paring: http://zenhabits.net/pare-it-down-cut-away-the-extraneous-to-leave-the-awesome/

Post-Gift Pare Down: http://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/30980998/list/5-ways-to-pare-down-your-stuff-before-it-gets-in-the-door

Wear It or Pare It: http://www.crumbbums.com/?p=5903

Dissolution of a Down

Forcing the issue isn’t working. The ‘Don’t Resolution’ is perhaps the swiftest failure of a New Year’s plan: to date, qualifyingly leaving space for possible worse scenarios.

I’ve been in-the-making of collages since I entered the social cyber world. Storing away tidbits of uplift for encouragement, aimed at providing a gentle environment to embolden and nurture with an occasional reflective cutting remark, allowing for some fun. I’ve plenty of fodder for those in trouble, in need, down-cast, insecure or out-cast, but none of them seem for me.

It’s hard to be inspirational when you’re feeling semi-permanently uninspired, labeled ‘semi’ for the sincere hope that someday the down-talk will cease. I call myself out, which isn’t much of a solution; like a carousel with no brass ring, just endless, relentless strips of self-assessing log. Mentally beating myself up hurts just as badly, if not worse, than anyone else’s ‘helpful’ fault-points. My call-downs are not vague. Specificity is sharp, slicing cleanly, making it that much harder to heal.

Soul stitching, like wound stitching, can be self-endured. Minor reachable fixes in cases of emergency, where we grab the needle without even thinking and try to put our lives back together again, not realizing there may be damages we cannot reach, and wounds we don’t even know are there.

Put-downs are easily learned, and difficult to unlearn. The highest muster of self-praise comes down to a check-box: I got the mail. I moved a box. I did something that needed to be done under micro-self-management, and two-seconds after acknowledging a ‘win,’ my heart hears the shake of my head as “really?” Wind-swiftly, whatever the opposite of a pat-on-the-back may be, swoops in ~ brushing contentment right off my shoulders.

Rooting the negativity spot, dust-piles of former praise, formerly minor bumps – have somehow turned into mountains covered in annoying scraps of optimism. The only way to break through is to tear them off, one-at-a-time, chewing slowly, digesting thoroughly before ever moving on. One-a-day, or one-for-two days, or one-for-a-week or month, if it’s particularly hard to swallow; but not a year. There will be no room to stand if standing still is the plan.

Push is as different from drive as self-motivation is from force-feeding. Push requires someone to move you; drive requires you to move yourself. Forward, then, I cannot promise 52, or Mondays or Saturday or any other day. I will not play catch-up, and will not regret it.

I will pick one. Carefully consider. Pass it on.

Encourage dissolution of downs.

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:

Don’t worry: http://tinybuddha.com/blog/3-reasons-to-stop-worrying-about-your-negative-thoughts/

Just Stop: http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/motivation_articles.asp?id=614

Defined: http://www.themms.com/corporate-education?id=110

Abandon Intentions

Intentions. I always have them. They’re my “but…” sort of clause to everything.

They’re my “I meant,’” “I should;” my excuse for misuse, of term and promise.

I forgot my drop at PF Changs. Lunch was interesting and fabulous, grouped and longer than planned, and I completely forgot to bring my abandonment with me. I adjusted disappointment with the rationale that I would have had to wait until the restroom was empty, which wouldn’t have been likely with the full house of diners.

My next intended target was the pet store. After considering the melee likelihood of right-before-Christmas work and shopping traffic, I never even tried. I thought I’d come up with a better idea, anyway.

Christmas Eve Day at the Chiropractor, someone would find my starry pin. I was leaning toward the bathroom again, but this bathroom is just a one-person, regular door lock bathroom; there’s be no in-out traffic. I excitedly placed it prominently on top of the paper towel dispenser, and took a picture for posterity. I immediately reconsidered for perceived cleanliness concerns, wondering if I would pick up a “gift” in a restroom. I might, but I also didn’t want it to be found while I was still there. I tagged my pin, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out where it came from. That would be embarrassing.

I re-pocketed my prize. Even though I hadn’t used it, I ceremoniously flushed the toilet. I figured it might seem assumedly gross to anyone who had watched me go in, or would see me come out, if that sound was missing. Then, I washed my hands, because I’d touched the toilet handle.

There was no chance for hallway stealth, either. Every chair was unusually filled with Christmas Eve day drop-ins. At the risk of causing concerns for my health, I would revisit the restroom on my way out, reclaim my drop spot, and be done with it. No one passed by on their way to the exit while I was waiting for a room to open, but a staff member pointed to a doorway and told me I could go in. The occupied sign was flipped, but it wasn’t really empty. As a patient was still gathering her belongings, I saw another, easier, possibility!

I would simply leave my abandonment in the table-room after my adjustment. It would be much more appealing to find a random present there than any random lavatory. I’ll be a little slow putting on my coat. I’ll hesitate a moment, and when left alone, quickly set it on a waiting chair, and stealthily slip out. I couldn’t help but wonder which one of the waiters would be gifted. They all looked like pleasant people, albeit in a bit of pain. Glancing over my shoulder gave me a glimpse of whom it would be traveling home with, and a satisfied internal glow. It was done! Abandoned, to surely be found, and I was happy.

With one hand on the exit door, seconds away from complete and true success, wishing all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, I was flagged down.

A cheerful staff member stood waving a recognizable little packet in my direction. “Is this yours?” she asked, adding, “It was on a chair in the room you were in.”

I felt my jaw drop and managed to mumble, “It was supposed to be there.” “Was it a gift for the Doctor?” she asked. “No,” I replied dejectedly, “No.” I probably should have brought one as a gift for her, or at least a holiday card, or something. “It was supposed to be there,” I explained again without much conviction, followed by the compelling need to explain the details of these supposedly anonymous random art drops, which mine was no longer.

“Should I give it back to the lady who found it?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, “unless she doesn’t want it, then feel free to keep it, or pass it on, or whatever….”

And that was that. I don’t know if the finder kept it, or if someone else might have loved it. It might come up at my next adjustment appointment, but I hope not. I wish I’d thought fast enough to respond differently. Perhaps, if I had said, “Yes,” I could have reclaimed it, re-headed for the restroom and re-ended the abandonment fiasco in exactly the same spot it had begun twenty-five minutes earlier.

Instead, I abandoned the situation, thinking what I’ve been thinking about every little thing since my early October luck-slide began. Every attempt to attempt anything in a reasonable way in a reasonable amount of time has been met with the Universe’s loudest protest, to which I have repeatedly shouted back, “Really?! It shouldn’t be this hard!!”

Lessons for me: Good intentions can be miresome, and even happy-ending stealth can make you feel guilty of something.

I’ve been scrolling for “mail call” two weeks now. The find hasn’t been reported. I know for a fact it was found, so I’m a little bogged down by the disappointment that comes from a craving for gratification. I’ve since learned that it’s not cool to tag items for recognition, or, for that matter, pumping for sales.

I’m sure I’ll do it, again, hopefully more anonymously. Hoping it will become easier with knowledge and repeat, because “intention” should never be followed by “was.”

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

 

Links:

Buddhist Solutions – How To Give Without Return:  (watch until at least 20:00)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Krhmz-dau0s

Paulo Coehlo – Give Love, Seek No Reward:

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2011/12/08/give-love-and-seek-no-reward/

Not Only at Christmas:

http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/health/wellness/acts-of-kindness