I don't have much to say. I am sick, sick, sick. My face is half frozen which is a nuisance but I'll deal. It's what I do. I went to see a neurosurgeon on Monday and she wanted me to take anti-virals for a week. In her experience, so she said, she found that people with Bell's Palsy make a fuller, quicker recovery with the prednisone AND the anti-virals. Okay, then, just give them to me and I will take them. I'm all over having the best chance in life. For $5 a pill taken three times a day I think that's a screaming deal!
They may make you sick, she said.
I am sick, sick, sick. I can't eat. I can't go more than 5 feet from a toilet and I have the shakes. I am on Gravol to counteract the insomnia from the steroid and the nausea from the anti-viral. I feel lethargic and sleepy.
Because I am half hippy at heart I went to see my angel, Heather, on Tuesday. She's my acupuncturist. She put me on a herbal tonic that makes me gag over the sink as I try to get it down. I have to drink it through a straw because my mouth doesn't work and it takes longer to drink through a straw than it would to just gulp it down. Man, it's nasty stuff.
She has three Bell's Palsy patients right now and one of them is a 17 year old boy. She is such a hippie chick. She thinks the wind has caused this 'strike' to fall upon my face. I love her and I told her that if the wind caused it then I better get the heck outta Dodge because I live in the windiest place on earth. She just rubbed my dead face and said all will be well. I believe her.
That night I went to a movie with the man. It was a bad idea. Not only was it a bad movie but I had to keep my right eye clamped shut during the whole thing. There is something about movie theatre air and my eyeball that did not agree. I couldn't eat my free popcorn. Another first.
Yesterday I took the kids to the zoo. We waited until after my stomach settled and then headed out. It was sketchy and shortly after we arrived we left so I could be near my potty once again. I am not leaving the house again until I am done these pills. Four more days.
Four more days and then I can leave the toilet and begin the packing. You heard me, packing. By the end of the month we will be moving.
We are moving into Willacy.
And me, with a frozen face........
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
catherine hears bell's
Today is Sunday and I stayed home from church, all by myself, sitting in the quiet, wondering what to do with these three hours. I have decided to write a story. This story is about a beautiful princess in a land not so far away and what a day in her life looks like......
Once upon a time there was a princess who had to clean the house. On Friday she cleaned the house in preparation for an open house that was scheduled for Saturday. So she cleaned. Just like she did Thursday and Wednesday and Tuesday and Monday. Why would a princess have to clean her own house? And with such a pounding headache?? She pondered these questions many times throughout the week. Maybe it's because she wants the people of her kingdom to know that she's just a real person who can relate to the people.
Friday night was party night. She had a clean house so why not have some princesses over to eat chocolaty peanut butter flavored delights? She took a shower and got ready. As she was putting her makeup on she noticed that her right eye was not closing as well as it normally does. Hmmm, that's weird. Moving on. Through out the evening she noticed that her teeth were feeling cleaner and cleaner as she ran her tongue over them and that her beverage of choice just wasn't tasting as glorious as it usually did. She thought nothing of it really until she went to bed and washed her face and noticed that her eye wasn't shutting properly again. She had to manually shut her eye so she could sleep. She was hopeful that it would sort itself out during the night.
The next morning the princess awoke and knew something was wrong, possibly dreadfully wrong. Her head was pounding in three distinct areas and only on the right side of her head. She couldn't raise her eyebrow, or close her right eye. When she smiled only one side smiled. It seemed half her face was broken, the right half. Her tongue was numb. For a bit she thought it was humorous, she would take a drink of water and the little peasant children in the kingdom would laugh and laugh as water shot out the right side of her mouth. Then she would remember the pounding in her head that was actually the cause of all her concern.
The king sent her to the royal doctor who turned out not to care much for the princess' wants and desires and made her wait three hours in the waiting room with all the other sick peasant people. He was old and spoke...........so...........sl.....ow......ly that it left no guessing as to what could have possibly been taking so long on this sleepy Saturday morning.
He was convinced that she was too young for Bell's Palsy. And, since the smashing headache was not a symptom there must be something horrible about to happen in the head of this young beautiful Princess. He told her to go to the ER right away. He wrote her a note saying he didn't want her to have to wait for treatment since she was, after all, a princess.
The king drove her to the hospital and the children waved good bye to their fearless leader as she disappeared behind sliding doors. She went to triage and gave them the note. They sent her to admitting who sent her to the Minor Injuries ER around the corner where she stumbled upon many peasant people waiting in their own sickness and despair to be seen by a doctor. The princess handed her form to a nurse with the note on top and then proceeded to wait for three hours in the waiting room. Just like everyone else. This poor princess was mistaken for a peasant person but she didn't mind. The people of the land like it when royalty stoops to their level and pretends to be like everyone else. It was an opportunity and she took it. She was baffled, however, by the mostly naked man in a backwards hospital gown who wandered through 6 times during her wait to check if the pay phone had any change in it. She wanted to tell him each time she saw him that no one has used the pay phone in the last 5 years nevermind the last 5 minutes. She saw, from his attire, that it most likely would make no difference to him to have this information.
Finally, a bed, a gown and an IV that would make the dudes from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre look like facial reconstruction artists. An exam was had that made the doctor stand back and say, "Hmmmm, I just don't get it. Bell's Palsy is not accompanied by such a terrible headache. And you clearly have Bell's Palsy so what is this headache? I don't like it. I'm calling neuro, you're having a CT scan and an ECG and I'm treating you for a migraine to see if anything changes. Do you have any questions?" The princess answered "Yes, one. When does Dr. McDreamy get here?"
ECG done. Where's the relevance? She couldn't say.
CT scan done. First one ever and kind of cool.
With the migraine medicine flowing through her veins via her hack IV she waited. She tried to read but alas, with the headache and the blurred vision and the tearing eyes........ it wasn't to be.
For what seemed like an eternity she waited for the throbbing to dissipate, but it wouldn't. It's not a migraine she thought to herself, it's an aneurysm. She was convinced, again, that she would die like a martyr on that hospital bed, alone and in pain. Whatever, martyrs are cool.
She listened to one nurse tell another nurse about her upcoming boob reduction and lift and then that second nurse reflected, loudly, on her boob reduction and lift. Interesting, thought the princess. These peasant people have nothing to talk about except how they have to have doctors fix their less than perfect boobies with knives and long skinny tubes that suck out fat while I lie here with a FROZEN FACE!
The princess dozed off and woke 8 minutes later with a headache that was less than 7 on the pain scale. Ahhhh, a 2. A 2 is much better than a 7. The doctor came back and said the princess' CT scan was perfect, no bleeds and no other "extremely worrisome" problems were found. Since her headache felt better the doctor called neuro on the phone and a decision was made. Diagnosis: Bell's Palsy with the unfortunate coincidence of a migraine. Neuro said there could be some pain in the head associated with Bell's Palsy but blah blah blah blah......."
"Do you have any questions?" asked the doctor, a lovely woman with the sweetest, most soothing voice.
"Yes, one," replied the Princess. "When does Dr. McDreamy get here?"
A dose of Prednisone, with a quick tutorial of Bell's Palsy and an appointment made at the headache clinic for Monday morning and the princess was on her way.
Prognosis: Treatment is one week of prednisone and it could take up to 6 weeks BUT it should resolve itself. If it doesn't then it doesn't. Sorry about your bad luck Princess.
So far the worst part of this whole experience, besides all the waiting and having to tape her eye shut to sleep, has been trying to suck pop through a straw.
Boo hoo.....suck it up Princess.
The end.
Once upon a time there was a princess who had to clean the house. On Friday she cleaned the house in preparation for an open house that was scheduled for Saturday. So she cleaned. Just like she did Thursday and Wednesday and Tuesday and Monday. Why would a princess have to clean her own house? And with such a pounding headache?? She pondered these questions many times throughout the week. Maybe it's because she wants the people of her kingdom to know that she's just a real person who can relate to the people.
Friday night was party night. She had a clean house so why not have some princesses over to eat chocolaty peanut butter flavored delights? She took a shower and got ready. As she was putting her makeup on she noticed that her right eye was not closing as well as it normally does. Hmmm, that's weird. Moving on. Through out the evening she noticed that her teeth were feeling cleaner and cleaner as she ran her tongue over them and that her beverage of choice just wasn't tasting as glorious as it usually did. She thought nothing of it really until she went to bed and washed her face and noticed that her eye wasn't shutting properly again. She had to manually shut her eye so she could sleep. She was hopeful that it would sort itself out during the night.
The next morning the princess awoke and knew something was wrong, possibly dreadfully wrong. Her head was pounding in three distinct areas and only on the right side of her head. She couldn't raise her eyebrow, or close her right eye. When she smiled only one side smiled. It seemed half her face was broken, the right half. Her tongue was numb. For a bit she thought it was humorous, she would take a drink of water and the little peasant children in the kingdom would laugh and laugh as water shot out the right side of her mouth. Then she would remember the pounding in her head that was actually the cause of all her concern.
The king sent her to the royal doctor who turned out not to care much for the princess' wants and desires and made her wait three hours in the waiting room with all the other sick peasant people. He was old and spoke...........so...........sl.....ow......ly that it left no guessing as to what could have possibly been taking so long on this sleepy Saturday morning.
He was convinced that she was too young for Bell's Palsy. And, since the smashing headache was not a symptom there must be something horrible about to happen in the head of this young beautiful Princess. He told her to go to the ER right away. He wrote her a note saying he didn't want her to have to wait for treatment since she was, after all, a princess.
The king drove her to the hospital and the children waved good bye to their fearless leader as she disappeared behind sliding doors. She went to triage and gave them the note. They sent her to admitting who sent her to the Minor Injuries ER around the corner where she stumbled upon many peasant people waiting in their own sickness and despair to be seen by a doctor. The princess handed her form to a nurse with the note on top and then proceeded to wait for three hours in the waiting room. Just like everyone else. This poor princess was mistaken for a peasant person but she didn't mind. The people of the land like it when royalty stoops to their level and pretends to be like everyone else. It was an opportunity and she took it. She was baffled, however, by the mostly naked man in a backwards hospital gown who wandered through 6 times during her wait to check if the pay phone had any change in it. She wanted to tell him each time she saw him that no one has used the pay phone in the last 5 years nevermind the last 5 minutes. She saw, from his attire, that it most likely would make no difference to him to have this information.
Finally, a bed, a gown and an IV that would make the dudes from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre look like facial reconstruction artists. An exam was had that made the doctor stand back and say, "Hmmmm, I just don't get it. Bell's Palsy is not accompanied by such a terrible headache. And you clearly have Bell's Palsy so what is this headache? I don't like it. I'm calling neuro, you're having a CT scan and an ECG and I'm treating you for a migraine to see if anything changes. Do you have any questions?" The princess answered "Yes, one. When does Dr. McDreamy get here?"
ECG done. Where's the relevance? She couldn't say.
CT scan done. First one ever and kind of cool.
With the migraine medicine flowing through her veins via her hack IV she waited. She tried to read but alas, with the headache and the blurred vision and the tearing eyes........ it wasn't to be.
For what seemed like an eternity she waited for the throbbing to dissipate, but it wouldn't. It's not a migraine she thought to herself, it's an aneurysm. She was convinced, again, that she would die like a martyr on that hospital bed, alone and in pain. Whatever, martyrs are cool.
She listened to one nurse tell another nurse about her upcoming boob reduction and lift and then that second nurse reflected, loudly, on her boob reduction and lift. Interesting, thought the princess. These peasant people have nothing to talk about except how they have to have doctors fix their less than perfect boobies with knives and long skinny tubes that suck out fat while I lie here with a FROZEN FACE!
The princess dozed off and woke 8 minutes later with a headache that was less than 7 on the pain scale. Ahhhh, a 2. A 2 is much better than a 7. The doctor came back and said the princess' CT scan was perfect, no bleeds and no other "extremely worrisome" problems were found. Since her headache felt better the doctor called neuro on the phone and a decision was made. Diagnosis: Bell's Palsy with the unfortunate coincidence of a migraine. Neuro said there could be some pain in the head associated with Bell's Palsy but blah blah blah blah......."
"Do you have any questions?" asked the doctor, a lovely woman with the sweetest, most soothing voice.
"Yes, one," replied the Princess. "When does Dr. McDreamy get here?"
A dose of Prednisone, with a quick tutorial of Bell's Palsy and an appointment made at the headache clinic for Monday morning and the princess was on her way.
Prognosis: Treatment is one week of prednisone and it could take up to 6 weeks BUT it should resolve itself. If it doesn't then it doesn't. Sorry about your bad luck Princess.
So far the worst part of this whole experience, besides all the waiting and having to tape her eye shut to sleep, has been trying to suck pop through a straw.
Boo hoo.....suck it up Princess.
The end.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
the depot schmoe
We've lived in Cochrane for almost 11 months and I have been to the bottle depot once before today. It was gross. The man then started to take the cans in for me. Unasked and with regularity.
Or so I thought.......
Yesterday I opened the garage door to put something inside and I saw the mountain. I went to investigate. It was bag upon bag of pop cans. At least 6 months worth, probably more. I should have known.
Today I told the boys we were going to go to the bottle depot and they could see how fun it was there. Lies!
We pulled all the bags, all 16 of them, out of the garage.
Can you see the chickens behind the pile waving at me like they are about to board the pop can train?
Then we loaded the vehicle.
The passenger seat was filled up.
The bench behind the passenger seat was filled up.
There were three kids in there as well. This might be impressive since I drive an Excursion which is no small vehicle. I suppose if you were a vehicle, you might be impressed with my vehicles ability to hold up in such a situation. If you aren't a vehicle, or a person who drinks pop, this may seem gluttonous to you. I don't care..... I think my love of pop gives me character (or so I tell myself in my most shameful moments).
When I got there I grabbed about 5 bags and told the boys to unload the rest of the truck for me. They would come in with their shirts over their noses. As soon as they had brought the last bag in they disappeared into the hot truck while I stood there, in my white t-shirt, feeling betrayed and abandoned. I felt like I was on display. Big neon arrows blinking over my head. Look who loves her pop! Look who loves her pop! I stood there for 40 minutes. On display.
The tension and the pressure of just standing there, waiting, was intense. "Don't judge me!" I wanted to yell. "You don't know what I have to put up with. You don't know what drives me to drink this beautiful nectar of the gods!!" This would have been way over dramatic, I know, but the pressure. No one talking. Just counting and counting and counting.......
When my little counting man was done he handed me, with his filthy sticky rubber gloves (can you imagine what his hands must have been like under there) my little piece of paper and I walked the walk of shame to the cash register.
$107.65. This is either very very good or really super bad. I left the depot.
When I returned to the truck, and saw three pink cheeked, sweaty kids I knew justice had been served. Slurpees anyone??
(Jack asked if we made enough money to buy everyone a slurpee. Ummm.... yes.)
Were lessons learned? Always.
1. Going to the bottle depot is a job better suited to the man and his ability to handle being filthy most of the time. And,
2. Showers are best had AFTER one goes to the bottle depot for what seems like a good chunk of their afternoon.
I need to drink something.......from a can.
Or so I thought.......
Yesterday I opened the garage door to put something inside and I saw the mountain. I went to investigate. It was bag upon bag of pop cans. At least 6 months worth, probably more. I should have known.
Today I told the boys we were going to go to the bottle depot and they could see how fun it was there. Lies!
We pulled all the bags, all 16 of them, out of the garage.
Can you see the chickens behind the pile waving at me like they are about to board the pop can train?
Then we loaded the vehicle.
The passenger seat was filled up.
The bench behind the passenger seat was filled up.
There were three kids in there as well. This might be impressive since I drive an Excursion which is no small vehicle. I suppose if you were a vehicle, you might be impressed with my vehicles ability to hold up in such a situation. If you aren't a vehicle, or a person who drinks pop, this may seem gluttonous to you. I don't care..... I think my love of pop gives me character (or so I tell myself in my most shameful moments).
When I got there I grabbed about 5 bags and told the boys to unload the rest of the truck for me. They would come in with their shirts over their noses. As soon as they had brought the last bag in they disappeared into the hot truck while I stood there, in my white t-shirt, feeling betrayed and abandoned. I felt like I was on display. Big neon arrows blinking over my head. Look who loves her pop! Look who loves her pop! I stood there for 40 minutes. On display.
The tension and the pressure of just standing there, waiting, was intense. "Don't judge me!" I wanted to yell. "You don't know what I have to put up with. You don't know what drives me to drink this beautiful nectar of the gods!!" This would have been way over dramatic, I know, but the pressure. No one talking. Just counting and counting and counting.......
When my little counting man was done he handed me, with his filthy sticky rubber gloves (can you imagine what his hands must have been like under there) my little piece of paper and I walked the walk of shame to the cash register.
$107.65. This is either very very good or really super bad. I left the depot.
When I returned to the truck, and saw three pink cheeked, sweaty kids I knew justice had been served. Slurpees anyone??
(Jack asked if we made enough money to buy everyone a slurpee. Ummm.... yes.)
Were lessons learned? Always.
1. Going to the bottle depot is a job better suited to the man and his ability to handle being filthy most of the time. And,
2. Showers are best had AFTER one goes to the bottle depot for what seems like a good chunk of their afternoon.
I need to drink something.......from a can.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
put your hands up!
This morning while I was catching up on some blog reading I could hear the little one yelling at the bigger ones to "put your hands up!".
Then I went to the kitchen to grab a drink and I heard her yell at me to "put your hands up!"
I turned and saw this cute little juicy thing wearing a polka dot shirt and a grass skirt aiming an itty bitty nerf gun at me. I asked her to hold her position while I grabbed my camera. When I turned back this is what I saw.....
....my knights in shining armor trying to protect me from the vicious grass skirt wearing nerf gun toting villain.
Funny kids.
Then I went to the kitchen to grab a drink and I heard her yell at me to "put your hands up!"
I turned and saw this cute little juicy thing wearing a polka dot shirt and a grass skirt aiming an itty bitty nerf gun at me. I asked her to hold her position while I grabbed my camera. When I turned back this is what I saw.....
....my knights in shining armor trying to protect me from the vicious grass skirt wearing nerf gun toting villain.
Funny kids.
Friday, July 30, 2010
the quota, and then some
It's been one week since I've been to Willacy. I was avoiding it. If I was dating Willacy it would have called for sure to see what was up. The last time I was there the tile guys had just started, the power had been cut off and put back on, I was still trying to locate my painter who was MIA, and I was frustrated.
The next day I left to go to Vernon to get the little ones. When I got home I couldn't bring myself to go and see the progress. I didn't want the frustration and anxiety so I pretended like it didn't exist. I hid.
Today I figured I should go and get some more painting done while there was no one there. The three bathrooms still needed to be done.
So I braved it and went to Willacy. This is what I saw as I opened the door.
Actually that was hiding under a tarp which I removed but nevertheless......
He nailed it. The man nailed it. Let me tell you about the anxiety I had over this stupid railing. A long time ago I showed the man about 2376 pictures of the kind of railing I wanted at Willacy. He said he got the picture. I don't doubt it. I had envisioned only about 4 or 5 steel rods though. He went out and bought all the material. Then he told me there had to be 8 rods due to code rules. I was freaked right out. I almost yelled at him. I thought it would look like a prison balcony or something hideous like that. I did tell him that if I had known there needed to be 8 rods I would have picked something else. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked away which basically was the same as saying "too bad for you you crazy control freak lunatic. It's having 8 rods and you can just......"
You get the picture.
Anyway, while I was gone he built the railing. He was able to keep the rod count down to 7, which is better than 8. Regardless, I did not want to see it.
It was inevitable though and being the mature adult I am I knew that. So tonight, after the man got home from Willacy, I left him and the children and made the journey.
Again..........
....different angle and the wood isn't stained yet but needless to say I'm more than impressed. If you aren't then just imagine me shrugging my shoulders and walking away from you.
And yes, that's tile you see on the floor. The tiling looks fantastic.
_____________________________________________________________________________
This is the downstairs bathroom which had the only working toilet, sort of, in the house. I won't divulge how I remedied the 'old lady who has had four babies and has to pee all the time' issue tonight. Let's just leave some things secret.
This is the main bath. Ahhhhh......... tile.
__________________________________________________________________________
This is what else I saw tonight.....
....and this is what it used to look like.
I am still on fence about this stone. It isn't what I had envisioned and it sure isn't what they had on display in their showroom. Whatever, it's done.
_______________________________________________________________________
So I almost tripled my Diet Pepsi intake for the day. I decided when I got home from Vernon I would cut back seeing as how I wasn't working and had no good excuse to be a junkie. So I had my quota throughout the day. Then I decided to work and took my quota with me to keep me company. I drank that and the night was still young so I had more. I shouldn't be telling you this for fear someone may host an intervention on me. I won't go to rehab, I won't give it up!
On second thought. A few weeks in rehab, with some good books and no reno sounds mighty appealing.........
The next day I left to go to Vernon to get the little ones. When I got home I couldn't bring myself to go and see the progress. I didn't want the frustration and anxiety so I pretended like it didn't exist. I hid.
Today I figured I should go and get some more painting done while there was no one there. The three bathrooms still needed to be done.
So I braved it and went to Willacy. This is what I saw as I opened the door.
Actually that was hiding under a tarp which I removed but nevertheless......
He nailed it. The man nailed it. Let me tell you about the anxiety I had over this stupid railing. A long time ago I showed the man about 2376 pictures of the kind of railing I wanted at Willacy. He said he got the picture. I don't doubt it. I had envisioned only about 4 or 5 steel rods though. He went out and bought all the material. Then he told me there had to be 8 rods due to code rules. I was freaked right out. I almost yelled at him. I thought it would look like a prison balcony or something hideous like that. I did tell him that if I had known there needed to be 8 rods I would have picked something else. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked away which basically was the same as saying "too bad for you you crazy control freak lunatic. It's having 8 rods and you can just......"
You get the picture.
Anyway, while I was gone he built the railing. He was able to keep the rod count down to 7, which is better than 8. Regardless, I did not want to see it.
It was inevitable though and being the mature adult I am I knew that. So tonight, after the man got home from Willacy, I left him and the children and made the journey.
Again..........
....different angle and the wood isn't stained yet but needless to say I'm more than impressed. If you aren't then just imagine me shrugging my shoulders and walking away from you.
And yes, that's tile you see on the floor. The tiling looks fantastic.
_____________________________________________________________________________
This is the downstairs bathroom which had the only working toilet, sort of, in the house. I won't divulge how I remedied the 'old lady who has had four babies and has to pee all the time' issue tonight. Let's just leave some things secret.
This is the main bath. Ahhhhh......... tile.
__________________________________________________________________________
This is what else I saw tonight.....
....and this is what it used to look like.
I am still on fence about this stone. It isn't what I had envisioned and it sure isn't what they had on display in their showroom. Whatever, it's done.
_______________________________________________________________________
So I almost tripled my Diet Pepsi intake for the day. I decided when I got home from Vernon I would cut back seeing as how I wasn't working and had no good excuse to be a junkie. So I had my quota throughout the day. Then I decided to work and took my quota with me to keep me company. I drank that and the night was still young so I had more. I shouldn't be telling you this for fear someone may host an intervention on me. I won't go to rehab, I won't give it up!
On second thought. A few weeks in rehab, with some good books and no reno sounds mighty appealing.........
Thursday, July 29, 2010
he tries.... or does he?
This morning Amelia asked if she could have a tea party on the kitchen table. Of course you can cute child, is how I responded. As I was helping her get set up I noticed how absolutely gross the table was. While the little kids were gone for three weeks the man and I worked. If we ate at home we did it on the couch staring with dead eyes at the tv. The two teens clearly never touched the table and I never noticed how unloved it was beginning to appear.
Poor dusty table. It's missing it's family. Tonight we ate at it just like in the good ol' days.
Since the house we are renting is for sale I asked the man to keep it up to snuff while I was away JUST IN CASE there was a showing.
There hasn't been many showings, only three, so keeping it up to snuff all the time just feels like a huge waste of time. The last thing anyone wants to do is fold laundry AND put it away. Or unload the dishwasher AND load it back up at the same time. I can't be the only one who lives like that. Don't tell me if I am, I don't wanna know.
Still.... one person keeping a house tidy? How hard could that be?
My standards aren't high in terms of house keeping. I could certainly improve in many areas.... okay, all areas but when it comes to making the bed I am a perfectionist. I am VERY particular about how my bed is made and the man knows that. There are rules and they are not hard to follow. There are 9 pillows and they need to be arranged in a certain way. He has tried in the past and failed miserably at making it to my satisfaction. He claims he "just can't get it right". I call bullcrap. I told him once that I was fairly confident that since he could read blueprints and build houses ALL BY HIMSELF he should be able to tackle the making of a bed without any problems WHAT.SO.EVER.
Just before I left last week I had him make it while I watched. He passed. It was beautiful.
Last night when I went to bed after being gone for four nights this is what greeted me....
Now I don't know about you but for me this fails to a spectacular degree.
I should have taken a picture of the counter above the dishwasher, but I didn't. You can just imagine what was piled high there. The dishwasher was still full of the dishes I set to wash the morning I left.
Maybe it's just me but I don't think he's applying himself.......
Poor dusty table. It's missing it's family. Tonight we ate at it just like in the good ol' days.
Since the house we are renting is for sale I asked the man to keep it up to snuff while I was away JUST IN CASE there was a showing.
There hasn't been many showings, only three, so keeping it up to snuff all the time just feels like a huge waste of time. The last thing anyone wants to do is fold laundry AND put it away. Or unload the dishwasher AND load it back up at the same time. I can't be the only one who lives like that. Don't tell me if I am, I don't wanna know.
Still.... one person keeping a house tidy? How hard could that be?
My standards aren't high in terms of house keeping. I could certainly improve in many areas.... okay, all areas but when it comes to making the bed I am a perfectionist. I am VERY particular about how my bed is made and the man knows that. There are rules and they are not hard to follow. There are 9 pillows and they need to be arranged in a certain way. He has tried in the past and failed miserably at making it to my satisfaction. He claims he "just can't get it right". I call bullcrap. I told him once that I was fairly confident that since he could read blueprints and build houses ALL BY HIMSELF he should be able to tackle the making of a bed without any problems WHAT.SO.EVER.
Just before I left last week I had him make it while I watched. He passed. It was beautiful.
Last night when I went to bed after being gone for four nights this is what greeted me....
Now I don't know about you but for me this fails to a spectacular degree.
I should have taken a picture of the counter above the dishwasher, but I didn't. You can just imagine what was piled high there. The dishwasher was still full of the dishes I set to wash the morning I left.
Maybe it's just me but I don't think he's applying himself.......
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
a week's worth.....
So it's been a week since I have posted. I have learned a lot this week. I will share some of it with you.
I left Saturday for a whirlwind trip to Vernon to gather my children. Actually, I dumped the two oldest ones off and brought home the three littlest ones today. I was instructed by the man to sit on the beach and relax and have a good time. I did one of those things, and not very well. I sat on the beach for two days. I did not relax, in fact I think I did the reverse of that since on the second day I answered many phone calls and responded to many texts.
I worked on the reno..... from the beach..... 7 hours away.
I learned I can not relax while there is a reno going on.
I picked back splash, I picked grout colors. I tried to organize trades but that got really frustrating and I was constantly screwing up so I handed that annoying job over to the man. I don't think he was impressed. Whatever.
I learned that I have nothing emotionally positive left in me. I am a short tempered, oversensitive, frustrated, cranky, unfun, worn out, emotional binge eating basket case. I do believe that whatever is left in me emotionally is getting used up at such a rapid pace that it might be in everyone's best interest if I stay off grid for a bit. I'm checking out.
I somehow have to figure out how to finish Willacy without:
1. losing it
2. three children being dangerously neglected
3. the man missing any work in order for me to do mine at the reno
4. running into anybody who may ask me how the reno is going
5. gaining any more weight
6. going so far into August on the reno the homeless issue becomes a reality
7. having to talk to the painter anymore. That guy is positively OBNOXIOUS
I have a couple of ideas. We'll see how it goes.
I have learned it's a lot hotter in Vernon than it is here. Okay, I didn't learn that. I already knew that. The weather this summer in Calgary has been a direct reflection of my mood. I take full responsibility for the crummy summer we are having. I don't apologize for it though. If I have to suffer then I think everyone else should as well.
Just kidding....... no I'm not.....
I think, soon, I will take my $60 Chapters gift card and wallow in the book store for a bit. That is a sure fire way to turn my frown upside down.
I wish this house I live in wasn't brown. I hate brown. I can't wait to move into a house that will have no semblance of brown, or taupe, or beige, or mud, or clay or any depressing mopey colour in it.
The very thought of a bright colourful house just cheered me up. Now where will that house be???
I left Saturday for a whirlwind trip to Vernon to gather my children. Actually, I dumped the two oldest ones off and brought home the three littlest ones today. I was instructed by the man to sit on the beach and relax and have a good time. I did one of those things, and not very well. I sat on the beach for two days. I did not relax, in fact I think I did the reverse of that since on the second day I answered many phone calls and responded to many texts.
I worked on the reno..... from the beach..... 7 hours away.
I learned I can not relax while there is a reno going on.
I picked back splash, I picked grout colors. I tried to organize trades but that got really frustrating and I was constantly screwing up so I handed that annoying job over to the man. I don't think he was impressed. Whatever.
I learned that I have nothing emotionally positive left in me. I am a short tempered, oversensitive, frustrated, cranky, unfun, worn out, emotional binge eating basket case. I do believe that whatever is left in me emotionally is getting used up at such a rapid pace that it might be in everyone's best interest if I stay off grid for a bit. I'm checking out.
I somehow have to figure out how to finish Willacy without:
1. losing it
2. three children being dangerously neglected
3. the man missing any work in order for me to do mine at the reno
4. running into anybody who may ask me how the reno is going
5. gaining any more weight
6. going so far into August on the reno the homeless issue becomes a reality
7. having to talk to the painter anymore. That guy is positively OBNOXIOUS
I have a couple of ideas. We'll see how it goes.
I have learned it's a lot hotter in Vernon than it is here. Okay, I didn't learn that. I already knew that. The weather this summer in Calgary has been a direct reflection of my mood. I take full responsibility for the crummy summer we are having. I don't apologize for it though. If I have to suffer then I think everyone else should as well.
Just kidding....... no I'm not.....
I think, soon, I will take my $60 Chapters gift card and wallow in the book store for a bit. That is a sure fire way to turn my frown upside down.
I wish this house I live in wasn't brown. I hate brown. I can't wait to move into a house that will have no semblance of brown, or taupe, or beige, or mud, or clay or any depressing mopey colour in it.
The very thought of a bright colourful house just cheered me up. Now where will that house be???
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