These Things I Know

I have a problem with authority.
The "text" function will be the end of all normal social interaction betwixt humans.
There are too many great books out there to waste one's time reading Tropic of Cancer (sorry Henry Miller fans, but 376 pages of obscenities does not a novel make).
When your A/C chooses to break, it will be on the hottest day of the year.
Lucy Liu is, in fact, the bomb.

I have writer's block, folks. And so, in light of my crippled ability to create through words, I will be taking a beginner's knitting class at The Yarn Shop on Monday evenings. Wish me luck...

Pet Peeve

I want to be an upstanding citizen. I want to do good works and give unselfishly. And we all know that there are enough charities and non-profits out there in need of help, right? So why have I contacted three different volunteer-dependent organizations in the past few months and gotten no response from any?

I mean, are you fucking kidding me?

When I make donations, my checks get cashed with a supreme display of efficiency. So where is that efficiency when a person wants to donate time instead of cold, hard cash? And you know, if they’re just overflowing with good Samaritans and don’t need any more volunteers, then how about showing a little common courtesy to the rejects by dropping us a quick line to say so? “Thanks, but no thanks.” See, it’s not that hard.

I’ll even volunteer to do THAT.

My Own Personal Chaos

Living in your new house while performing mass renovation on it is economically viable. It will also make you a teensy bit insane.

The refrigerator is in the basement while we pull up kitchen tile that looks like it was positively welded to the underlying hardwood. The tile itself is an unsettling smorgasbord of yellow, violet and a strange olive-grey hybrid. At the same time, we are pulling down the ceiling tiles and rafters to (hyuck, hyuck) “raise the roof”. The cabinets have no handles, as I took them off to paint but got distracted. The stove is a hulking, ancient contraption that looks like the thing that landed in Roswell.

Our washer & dryer are in the ½ bathroom. The couch is in the dining room. And the dining room table is apparently being held hostage in a Slumberland warehouse, the location of which is known only to the very top dogs over at the CIA.

On the upside, the first round of demolition went well and our house is now free of icky paneling, old carpet, and faux wood accessories. The mutant shrub that was feasting on the right half of the porch – also gone.

I hope to have one room finished before the end of the month…a sanctuary amidst my own personal chaos.

(Everything in this posting is completely tongue-in-cheek. I love my new/old house and the projects associated with it.)