practi-procrasti-patience

Spring is that short-lived lovely feeling of sunshine and short-sleeves heralding the sad state of your view and the odd sense of satisfaction you know will be yours once you do what’s gotta be done.

Windows.

Smothered in low nose prints inside, sheeted with right-off-the-tree rained down dirt on the outside.

Lodged remnants of last fall’s floaty yellow helicopter pods are merely mushy brown now, and apparently insanely attractive to egg-laying creepy crawlies.

Ugh.

Don’t know why this year seems so much worse. It’s a good thing I’ve got the Costco-sized double-pack of Q-tips in my possession, along with a super-sized bottle of Dawn and 2 jugs of white vinegar.

I happen to have an unhappy abundance of COVID-panic paper towels Amazon sweetly ‘suggested’ as a substitute for my normal brand. Biodegradable, quite akin to the instantly self-dissolving single-ply ‘I-might-have-just-as-well-used-my-right-hand’ tissues I was not fond of in my youth.

The last time I bought some of those was about 6 years ago. There’s a box or possibly two left in supply. They’re really just for grown-up looks and fancy guests, I guess.  

Lazed in the last of the 6 PM incoming ray, communing with my sun-squinting cats, was when all of this presented itself so nicely. I know it’ll be delightful to have sparkly windows and dispose of those leaf-nested winged-type critters.

Being practical, I wasn’t planning on doing anything just then. Hey, I was planning, not procrastinating. More lounging lead to other conclusions.

I’m not fond of my current living room set-up. Swapping the office and the bedroom left no room for my reading recliner anywhere else, but there. It’s an awkward, bulky, comfy, often-used non-stylish, unmatched chair. I’m ready for the seasonal switch, but it’s not going to be that easy.

Because, I also gained a piece of furniture bought a while back. It’s been living in a friend’s house for a year or so. Grand Prix’s aren’t great bargain-haul haulers.  Now, one of those new mid-size Bronco’s would do. Not just, yet, though. The GP’s still running just fine.

Sitting there contemplating all this, I realized I’m kind of unhappy with my previously too-well-loved to give it up sitting room suite. The familiar urge to change something – fast – swelled into immediate need. Unfortunately, my ultra-regular go-to for a fast, refreshing fix, is a hair-over.

I’ve sort of nixed that nonsense. There’s a lot less than there usually is because I got rid of most of what was left, already.

Considered color – maybe that pretty antique blue (that last time turned out chlorinated pool turquoise green.) Maybe, I should try boxed grey, again. That pretty much did nothing, except add a little shine. Brad Mondo says you’ve gotta bleach first or you’ll end up with a dishwater-dirty mop. Not a verbatim quote. I’m more or less paraphrasing from a conglomerate of 2 AM, I’m not sleeping, hair-color-gone-wrong videos.

You know, if I’ve gotta bleach, maybe I should just… bleach. Of course, I’d have to tackle my brows, too.

Nah, I’m still waiting for the sparkly take-over. They’re coming in. Slowly.

Procrastination I mean, Patience, may pay off.

Quote for the Week:

Photo Essay Interlude …

Because old printed pictures tell a good story ….

First, the entire 8 foot by 8 foot Michigan Hot Sauce Club store! (See “Club?” blog)

Hand stamped spirals, hot pepper curtain, plastic shelves, and register counter.

Next, the continuation of the driveway corn experience! (See “Canned” blog.)

We cooked 3 – yes 3 – pots of corn. Canned some plain, some with green peppers, chili peppers, onions and celery.

 

Plus, Jeff’s sense of humor and creativity – cabbage and cookies!

Stay tuned for next week’s blog: Stockings

 

 

 

 

 

Oatmeal Deviation

Everyone’s got that one thing that completely contradicts what they’re about.

I mean, we all have things that seem odd for us and odd to us.

Mine apparently is oatmeal. Who knew? When it came to my attention, I laughed. A lot.

According to my informer, I am incredibly precise about everything being done correctly and uniformly.

Yet, daily, my morning oatmeal ranges from runny to mushy to perhaps over-cooked and occasionally under watered.

Last Christmas (or maybe the one before) I gave my honest informant a special bowl that I thought would not boil over and measuring cups for her morning oatmeal routine. Because she’s not that fond of it, but stands by the fact that it is good for you, and filling.

I hit the yogurt wall a few weeks ago. Seriously, I cannot fathom ever eating a yogurt again. Not Greek, not low-fat, not full-fat, not whipped, not extra creamy, not organic, not even extra sugary dessert type which claim to black forest cake or lemon meringue pie. No.

Lately, eggs have joined the not-gonna-happen list. Hard-boiled, scrambled, cooked in a circular ring on a greasy grill – no. Although, my toothless stand-by of Impossible Pie has not been over-used or become unappetizing, thank goodness.

What exactly is my resistance to measuring oatmeal and water? Laziness… possibly, but I think I’d rather go with Scientific Variation.

Like that spin? I do think it could be considered more fun to eyeball and see what happens –  who doesn’t like a daily experiment? I have through tedious research and trial and error conquered the overflow factor with an obnoxiously large bowl which sometimes leads to a larger than the dietary proclamation of recommended daily intake/allowance/suggested serving size.

The bowl has also seen better days. The plastic base is beginning to show white stress marks radiating from the little bumped-up mould release spot in the center bottom. One of these days, I’ll likely end up dealing with the slimy mess of unrestrained oatmeal lava.

Still, that’s not enough to convince me to search out another dollar store cheapie. I own 3 sets of the same pattern dinnerware. Two open sets are cabinetted in separate groups of 4; the other remains an unopened wedding gift from 2001. I haven’t broken a deep soup bowl, yet, or a shallow cereal bowl, or a salad plate, or a dinner plate, either. The only items incurring damage have been coffee cups. None have cracked or shattered. A few have unfortunately chipped, which is quite unfortunate since mugs are the only non-backed-up food service item.

The oatmeal appropriate bowls don’t microwave as well my yellow plastic vessel. The asbestos-glove-required outside nukes up faster than the actual gruel. I do use the deeps at home nestled into the bottom of an old Meal-in-Minutes microwave bottom boat, which makes home hot food handling on tippy-toes as I reach for the over-the-stove unit designed for normal (taller) users just a bit safer.

At least laziness doesn’t play a role in this scenario. I’m know not too lazy to drag one to work.  I also know I’ll be annoyed with the microwaved results unless I also drag the pink thing and a potholder.

I could leave the potholder, but I’d have to carry the Tupperware on my daily walks to and from work. It’s seriously one of my best kitchen tools.

I should buy another. It’s rather contradictory that I don’t already own two, because, well… yeah.

Quote for the Week:

 

Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:

Plastic Parties: http://www.tupperwarecollection.com/v2/tw_index.php?page=home_parties_history

Don’t Do This: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/06/13/microwave-cooking-tips_n_5488231.html

It’s Complicated: http://www.webmd.com/diet/oatmeal-benefits

 

 

Under the Category of…

Condo Chronicles, February 21, 2015: The Dust War

Saturday morning assessment: the bathroom work needs clean-up work. Drywall and sanding and flooring and painting in a 7 x 7 space left a fine film of dusts and almost minuscule plops of mediums… everywhere.

 

Under the Category of “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.”

Me (to nobody in particular, well, actually to no one, at all):

“Do I really need to wipe down all the walls?”

Walls (mine do talk): “Yes.”

Me (halfway to pretty sure I don’t): “I’ll take a swipe.”

Me (still skeptical): “I can hardly see a difference.”

Sponge (scientifically): “I can confirm that.”

Me (noting the blue is more lightly beige): “Eh, I’ll rinse and swipe once more to be sure.”

Bucket (with a list of its own): “I can confirm that.”

 

Under the Category of “Ear Worm – Get It Out.”

Me: (in an endless loop as I one-way wipe away dust, sidetrackedly stuck by unexpected ancient paint blotches) “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.” “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.” “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.” “For the Love of George– I’m doing it right! Get out of my head.”

Me (rational alter-ego): “Music would help.”

Me (scrambling for the phone and charge): “Slacker, Slacker! I’m no Slacker – but I’m glad I’ve got Slacker.”

Me (rational alter-ego): “You just ear wormed yourself again, didn’t you?”

 

Under the Category of “One Down, Two Down, Why Bother Counting?”

Me: Four hours later, winning the war against bathroom grit and numerous swipes of tell-tale sloppy decorators’ toilet tank paint. Obviously without any realistic notion of how long total de-dusting takes, and annoyingly burdened with weighty acknowledgement gleaned from having moved the ceramic-ton toilet and the unassembled shower door assembly, out and back into the shower.

Me: Two hours later, winning the war against kitchen grit and appliance atrocities. Reliving lessons previously not learned; recognizable (late) as errors. The Magic Eraser affair continues – removing grease and rust build-up, re-whitening (as much as possible due to previous neglect) appliance seal strips, door knobs (eventually slated for retire and replace-ments.)

 

Under the Category of “Oh, Yeah.”

Me: (years ago) Scoffed at the mother who allowed her toddler to play with the mysterious cleaning product and then complained when, after rubbing it all over his face repeatedly for an extended period of time the child developed chemical burns. It’s a cleaning product, lady, and why weren’t you supervising your kid?

Me (years later): Scrubbing a rental floor to a less dull shine, dissolving my fingernail tips and stripping the pads a bit, crashing into membership as an unfortunate inauspicious of the same “Duh” group.

 

Under the Category of “I’ve done this before.”

Me (lazy): “Oh, this should just take a couple wipes.”

Dishwasher Seal: “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Me (in discovery mode): “There’s some more, and there’s some more and…”

Me (doing the whole thing, without a single intelligent consideration despite the incompletely eradicated worm-bastard): “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.”

Refrigerator (orange-ish-ly snarky): “Hey, what about taking another go at mine.”

Me (playing fair, addressing the other sealants in the room):  “If You’re Gonna Do It, Do It Right.”

Me (frantic for an antidote): “Argh! The phone’s not registering my really tender fingertip taps!”

Me (sheepishly sore): “Foolishness. You’ve done this before.”

 

Under the Category of “Break-Time!”

Me (finely, remembered): Finally remember to lift the yogurt lid away from my face, thus avoiding facial, eye-glass and wardrobe splatter.

Me (again): “Break Time!”

Me (not so long after) “Break Time!”

Me (the heck with this noise): “Nap Time!”

 

Under the Category of “Finished.”

Me (uncomfortably and somewhat numbly bumbling along my Android keys):

“An hour and a half in the kitchen. Two and a half hours in the living room/dining room/hallway. One hour in the bedroom. Forty-five minutes in the office, and one broken window shade: finished. I will likely do nothing else this weekend.”

 

Under the Category of “That’s Not Likely.”

Me (realistically, for a change): “That’s not likely…”

 

Quote for the Week:

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

Chemically: http://home.howstuffworks.com/magic-eraser.htm

Wormifying: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6W0d9xMhZbo

De-Dustify: http://www.howtocleanstuff.net/removing-interior-construction-dust/

 

Extra Extra: The Dust War Pictorials

 

Box Point

So, it’s official. Movers are coming in a little over a week.

And, it’s official: I’ve reached the Box Point.

It happens every time, and this time is no exception.

Three and a half months in the making, made for a little luxury room. The neatly numbered, detailed detail, lightly packed and stacked cardboard containers have been growing. Delays have made for slow-moving, “I-won’t-need-this-anytime-soon” relocations.

For the most part, it’s been fine. One dish, one bowl, one place setting, two glasses, two cups, a few less utensils and gadgets haven’t been missed much. Art supplies, have been missed a little. I have a small stash of generic,  but potentially alterable cards. I’m good with that.

My unusually optimistic assumption that two months would be a reasonable amount of time to accomplish a reasonable amount of repairs, resulted in recalls. I shut off the upright fridge and moved the frozen foods to the itty-bitty freezer part of the fridge in the condo. I ran out of chicken. I ran out of vegetables. I’ve been piece-meal recovering. I took advantage of a great pet supply sale, and stationed the spoils at the condo. At the ready, two bags of food and two buckets of litter. I’ve been bucketing food back to the kitties. I haven’t relocated litter, yet.

I’ve given notice to the rental, and they are being lovely. They will post the availability this week, and list as available March 2^nd. Monetarily, I’d love the chance to not pay two more months of rent, utilities, insurance.

Now that there’s a date and notice, the kettle’s heating up, and I’m roiling toward Box Point.

If it’s an unsure pile of notes, or envelopes or spices, I’m adopting the “box it up and sort it later” stance. A long as-it’s in a box-going to the right room, or going-near-the-right-room, it and I am in. Never having to do this again is somewhat contributing to the sloppiness. I can tweak on the flip side, and I have a lifetime to do it. Don’t panic – I’ll handle what needs to be handled in a timely fashion, It’s just there’s a point when later becomes significantly better and more appropriate than now. That and knowing the high price of non-completion will be greater than the satisfaction of exactness.

Now that I’m ready to get my move on, transference is being hindered by negative temperatures. I’ve spent some time trying to determine exactly which items I own are freeze-proof and wondering if the insignificant  inherent moisture in plastics would shatter my shirt buttons. So far, wire shoe racks and pressboard bookcases have survived a few freezing hours in the back of my car. Truly, though I am sure I can drum up other stuff, like books, nothing short of 36 degrees will make me want to go back out once I’m in and warm. Stuff is staying put in hopeful piles of “someday-I’ll-be-able-to-tote-this-over.”

Miss Freddie and H-Blu are freely enjoying the free-form challenge courses scattered throughout the house.

I’m waiting for Mother Nature to stop this nonsense.

Quote for the Week:

 Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

How to Move: http://smallnotebook.org/2009/05/29/how-to-move-in-6-weeks-or-6-days-and-keep-your-sanity/

The Paper Problem: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/20140610152742-18266284-the-simple-way-to-tackle-paper-clutter

Weather Report: http://www.weather.com/weather/tenday/l/Detroit+MI+USMI0229:1:US