Sunday, October 27, 2013

My silly little hobby

What I have here is a "root situation."  And a "pink situation."  And a "dark circle situation."

I can solve one of these problems with chemicals.

I swear, the pink will never go away.  It will be pink forever.

While I like the weird yellow-to-flamingo sort of look, it makes my nose seem really red.

Okay, maybe my nose IS really red.  Still, nobody likes yellow roots.

I don't even know what to call this.  Let's call it "moonstone," because "pinkish-greyish-bluish-purplish-blonde" isn't a color.

I'm going to run more blue through it later.  

Monday, October 21, 2013

Ten Days

Ten days till the Bio-Exorcism.

Mercury went retrograde last night, which means, unlike the rest of the world that has descended into chaos and frustration, I am feeling pretty okay.  I was born during a Mercury retrograde, so I just don't get the downsides.  Nay, it's the only time of year I feel like I have my shit together.  Usually.  Well, as together as my shit can be.

Went to go see Alton Brown's "Edible Inevitable" show, which was great.  If you have the means and the opportunity, go see it.  It's amusing as hell.  He sings a song that's basically talking shit about other Food Network stars.  He tweeted this picture:

I'm on the right, just in front of the light board.  Can't you see me?  I'm right there.
The view from my perspective.
Let's see... what else has been going on in the Cave?

I bought myself a present.
I smell like whale barf.  It smells very pretty.

I'm getting pinker by the day.
I'm not drunk, I'm just chewing chocolate-covered gummy bears.
And the rabbits have made an impressive tunnel system.
View from tunnel entrance.  Please note cinderblock perimeter.  I planned ahead.


Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Today's highlights

Woke up to find the Old Man Cat unable to stand, unable to eat, and pitched forward into the food bowl.  He then proceeded to have a weird slow-motion seizure and then shit himself in the carrier on the way to the vet.  Turns out he's had unbelievably low blood sugar for at least two weeks, was borderline dead when the vet techs got some glucose in his system, and needs less than a quarter of the insulin that he's been getting. Today's emotional damage-  I am terrified to give him his insulin, because he hasn't eaten very much since coming home.  Today's financial damage- over a grand, which my mother generously picked up because I do not have that kind of cash, and we get to go back on Thursday and then again in two weeks.  It will take me months to pay her back, but it's better than owing a credit card company or not having any options at all.


The library project at work was restarted after taking an hour and a half to figure out how I had it laid out the first time before I got interrupted by 900 other things.  As soon as I got it sorted, I had to stop again, as there was a meeting in the library.  I cannot touch the project tomorrow or Thursday, as I am teaching twice on both days, and it takes about an hour to restart the project every time.  Oh well.  At least I had a half-hour warning that the meeting was going to occur, and I was able to at least stack the books in piles that correspond to their new numbering system.  Maybe I can get to it on Friday.  Maybe the labels I ordered will have arrived by then.


Not that I could catalog any of the books anyway, since the database program simply will not open on my work computer.  I can't think of a ray of sunshine to blow up this one's ass.  Fuck Filemaker.


Was just attacked by a large aggressive dog while walking Trixie.  This dog broke down its own front fence to come after us.  I am large enough and loud enough that the dog decided against it (but still came back for another threat run), but it still scared the hell out of me.  This is the second time we have been attacked by large aggressive dogs who have either scaled or broken down front yard fences while walking.  Trixie seems to have no idea that she was just about to get her throat torn out.  Physical damage- turned ankle and knee from evasive action, swollen wrist from yanking her leash to keep her from further angering the attacking dog.  Emotional damage- now a little more paranoid about other dogs, nerves completely shot.  At least Trix is in one piece.


I've been pulling Tarot cards lately, just to give myself something to get a grip on when things start going to hell.  This morning I pulled a Reversed Wheel of Fortune (bad luck) and this afternoon I pulled a Nine of Swords (drama queen).  Indeed.

October 15, I am 100% done with you.




Thursday, October 10, 2013

The unyielding heartbreak of fins

I am a fish.
I have been a fish my entire life.
I am very good at being a fish.
My scales are pretty.
My fins are graceful in the water.
I float and bob and spin and dart, when I swim it is like poetry.

Climb this tree!  
Arboreal life is the way to be.
I fling myself out of the water and flop helplessly.

Why can't you just climb this tree?
The herons didn't have a hard time getting up here, and they were in your pond.
I stare into the branches as I begin to suffocate.

You just aren't trying hard enough!
If you applied yourself, you could climb this tree!
I roll, exhausted, back into the water.

I gaze helplessly at the branches above me.
I visit doctors to try to exchange my fins for legs.
All they can give me is thicker slime, so I can stay on the shore a few minutes longer before drying out.

I ache for legs.
I yearn to see the world from the treetops.
Over and over, I fling myself onto the shore.

I know you're a fish, but everyone needs to climb the tree.
I think you just need to change your attitude.
Is there anything we can do to help you grow legs?


I grow more colorful scales, in the hopes that maybe it will compensate for my gills.
I swim in more graceful patterns.
I desperately try to make being a fish okay.

The swimming is nice, but you still have fins.
Why aren't they legs yet?
The frog grew legs, so you understand our frustration, don't you?

My pond has turned to saltwater from my tears.
I have been a fish my whole life.
When will that be okay?

My pond is evaporating.




Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Looking forward to....

Never finding an unwrung sponge in the sink.

Never wondering if the animals have been given access to something they shouldn't have.

Knowing where all my belongings are.

The pickle shelf in the fridge being used solely for pickles.

Having a Guest Nest.

Redecorating the room that will become the Guest Nest.

Having all my books in one place.

Having a dining set in my dining room, instead of bedroom and office furniture.

Having a sewing area that isn't on the bedroom furniture in the dining room.

Putting rats in the office again, and being able to rig up Ratopia so they can run around and play and hopefully stop trying to chew their cage to bits.

Being able to access my blanket chest so I don't have to have the down comforter on the bed year-round.

Walking around the house in various states of undress if I feel like it.

Hanging up all the framed antique Japanese art that is currently languishing in the coat closet.

Knowing that if something is left out, or left unwashed in the sink, or is sitting in the dryer, that I AM THE CULPRIT.

Hanging my dartboard cabinet where the rat cage has lived for over a year.

Sleeping with my bedroom door open so that the dog can go in and out without having to pester me awake.

Hosting Ladies Night again, since the house will be clean and non-humiliating.

Getting the house tented for termites.

Redoing the yard after getting the house tented for termites.

Taking out the ficus tree that is lifting the patio concrete and that shits leaves everywhere.

Maybe taking out the carob tree that also shits leaves everywhere, and replacing it with something that produces food.

Painting my scavenged patio furniture so that it looks like it belongs together.

Finishing my floor and being done with carpet FOREVER.

Being somewhat in control of the smell in my house (the cat does have some say in this, but as long as his blood sugar is under control, he's usually pretty good), instead of constantly smelling Slovenly Man Stank.

Not having to explain "No, he's just the dude who lives here.  No, we're not involved.  No, he's not my ex.  No, I'm not being coy."

Not feeling like a sucker.



The Anguish of Creativity

As I was busily playing Whole House Tetris on some graph paper today, I managed to design something beautiful and luxurious and glamorous and covered in bats and and and

AND I HAVE NO ROOMS THAT COULD ACCOMMODATE SUCH A THING.

Nobody I know has a room that could accommodate such a thing.

>gnashing teeth<

I bet this is why people build dollhouses.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Planning the Shuffle

So, now that I KNOW I am getting my house back in less than 30 days, I am abandoning all Halloween prep in favor of Whole House Tetris prep.

I have a lot of furniture.  It's part of the fun of living in your grandmother's house- the house was full when I got here, and I brought my own furniture.  The furniture that was already here is all enormous and antique.  The furniture that I brought is all particleboard and shitty, except my dressers.  Unfortunately, the shitty particleboard serves functions that the antiques do not, and vice versa.

My dining room has been home to an antique cherrywood bedroom set that was way too huge for the guest room that it lived in for 50 years.  The giant dresser/mirror has become a very tall credenza, currently housing my liquor on top and all my office stuff in the drawers.  There are also two nightstands and a vanity.  Added to this is a particleboard rolltop desk that has the rest of my office supplies and some filing cabinets.  I do not have anywhere to sit and eat- I eat over the sink like a frat boy, or on my back patio at a termite-ridden picnic table.  If it's raining, the patio is a no-go.

In my tiny kitchen is a small round dining table and two chairs.  I have no idea why it's in there, my grandmother was weird about compartmentalizing the house.  It is in no way useful, and makes it hard to get in and out of the door.  It's also ugly, but I can deal with ugly.

My den is home to a smallish ugly couch, an antique Indonesian chest, a barrel shaped end table with storage underneath, and a red metal locker cabinet TV thing from Ikea.  There are bookshelves flanking the fireplace, but they are shitty particleboard and cannot hold more than 35 pounds per shelf (wtf?).  They are already bowed.  Part of me thinks I should just build something into the space that will actually, yanno, SUPPORT books.  The other part of me is already overwhelmed with projects.

In the office, there will be two shitty particleboard bookshelves that actually hold a lot of weight and don't look bad, a shitty particleboard corner desk that I brought home from college that has probably been utterly ruined, a large antique blanket chest full of linens, and my great-grandmother's gliding chair, which needs to be reupholstered but is otherwise fine (and has swan heads supporting the armrests, which is glorious).  There is also a wooden dresser in there, which does not have to live there.

In the guest room there are (or will be) two silver-painted wooden dressers and a twin bed.  There is also a cherrywood pie table currently serving as a nightstand.

So far, I think I have everything sorted out, but I just don't know what to do with the rolltop desk, the vanity, the nightstands, or the red TV cabinet (I have no TV).

I should measure things and start drawing up a battle plan.

I should also work on my floor (I'm 1/6 done with my den floor!).

I'm getting my houuuuuuuuuuse back.  I'm getting my houuuuuuuuuuuuse back.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Never wanted to rage-vomit before

After coming home to the eviction letter on his bedroom door, VR was quick to try to apologize, presumably to try to halt what had already occurred.  I raised my voice farther than I should have.

I think I was mean.

I don't like being mean.  There is a difference between being a bitch and being mean.  Being a bitch is just drawing a line in the sand and refusing to budge.  Being mean aims to injure.  I think I was aiming to injure.  I was so full of hurt and latent anxiety and exhaustion that I wanted to share the sensation.

In any case, my gut hurts like hell and every single one of my nerves is shot.  I would give anything for a Xanax right now.

My entire support system was at the movies when I finished my tirade and stormed out of the house to walk the dog and vent the adrenaline.  I had nobody to Monday-morning quarterback with, so now I have no real memory of what I said.  It washed away in a flood of stress hormones.  I hope some of it was taken to heart.  I know I used the phrase "shockingly un-self-aware" and "I cannot have TWO disorders in the house, I am white-knuckling through every day loaded up on an astonishingly high dose of stimulants to try to keep the chaos at bay, and I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE."

I will probably vomit before bed.

In any case, I am repainting the front door on November 1, and changing out the lock.  I have paint chips taped to the door to see which one grows on me.

I'm so tired of feeling like this.

Never again.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Game Over

The money for the utilities was due October 1.

October 1 has come and gone, as has my patience.

Time to get my guest room back.