Thursday, March 26, 2009

Magical Thinking

Def: Wherein one returns home after being gone for three nights hoping that work left undone when one left will be completed in one's absence.

Use in a sentence: Damn I was hoping all this s*** would be carried off by elves while I was gone.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Joys of Middle Age

I went to see my Dr. Friday because I've been incredibly frazzled for the last two weeks, said frazzling including random sharp chest pains, funny pain across my shoulders, and tingling in my left hand.

She seemed to agree that it was mostly stress-related, considering everything going on with both work and the impending changes here at Casa de Craphole, with some nerve compression going on to cause the tingling, just for shits & giggles on the part of my body, I suppose.

Anyhoo, she took an EKG in the office, which came up abnormal but not acute (and thanks for teh internets diagnosis, poops). Apparently this happens a lot. But she scheduled a follow-up with the cardiologist this coming Friday, just to be sure.

Kinda sucks though when the 25 year-old that lives in your head gets hit with the reality of an almost 50 year-old body.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


It's an old sales motto: Always Be Closing.

I've reconfigured it for my motto, for the next couple of weeks at least, to be: Always Be Cleaning.

Le Boyfriend was here over the weekend for his last visit before becoming an official resident of Tinytown and of my humble abode in two weeks. He helped me clean a good bit & the task of preparing this place to add him into the mix appears much less daunting.

Yesterday evening, I cleaned out the closet in the spare bedroom/office. The original intent for this closet was to use it for my winter 'good clothes' that I wanted to leave on hangers. It apparently morphed from that over the years. Ahem.

So there's a goodly amount of stuff to 86, along with a full box and a pile of stuff on hangers to go to the ever faithful Salvation Army.

Another battle in the war on stuff waged and won.

Now, who can tell me what to do about the 25 boxes of books in this house? Anyone? Bueller?

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Reason 2578 Why I Love This Town

I was wrapping up this morning's yard sale, still left with a couple of the bigger pieces I'd hoped would find new, happy homes.

The biggest onus was a wing chair, a decent piece of furniture that for various reasons had become something of an albatross.

So of course at the end of the sale, there it was, in all its albatrossian glory in my front yard. I'd had a couple of gals express interest and leave their name and phone numbers, but I had a sneaking suspicion their response on the phone would be 'Let me see', and/or 'Well, are you willing to cut the price?'*.

I was in the process of shoving the damn thing back in the front door, when a neighbor** drove by in his truck and asked if I needed help. I said the first think that popped into my head, which was, "Yeah, I need to get this chair to the Salvation Army (which is 18 miles away, btw)."

To which he said, "Okay, take my truck. I'll drive your car back to my house & when you get back, we'll swap out." And I did.

*Read: I think you're desperate & you'll be willing to allow me to steal it out from under you.

**Said neighbor has to be one of the most truly 'Christian' persons I've ever come across. He is totally awesome.

Yard Sale

I was afraid I was going to experience an Epic Fail. However, some of the bigger things are already gone, I have two folks interested in a wing chair that's been in my way for two years, and if what's out there now doesn't sell, it'll make for another nice donation to the Salvation Army.

Now what to do about the gazillion boxes of books my hubby spent hours packing and repacking.

I will say the war on stuff appears a lot more manageble at this point than it did even a month ago.

Thursday, March 5, 2009


I haz a little less of it.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Monday, March 2, 2009

Not! a Snow Day

in Tinytown.

However, Le Boyfriend's yard looks like a winter wonderland. Of course, he's five hours away, so it doesn't do me much good.

In a few weeks though, the 300-mile distance between us will be bridged, as he has a viable offer on his house, and he's packing up for the move to my little corner of the world.

Shift on the new path of my life, indeed.