What did I do before a bullet journal?
I am planning to replace the shed, so everything from specs to easements are in one place. It doesn’t matter if I add information on a page much farther; it’s listed in the index under “shed.”
I bought a hanging calendar for upcoming appointments and events. It is a plain Blue Sky spiral-bound calendar, July through June 2019. It’s replacing the four-month “future” section of the journal.
The Cycle Is Broken
I didn’t know what to do with myself after this school year ended. Part of it was mental fatigue, but the other was an overwhelming To-Do List.
The Young Human Factory has been saved by the voters, and my schedule will be slightly less hectic come September.
In the meantime, I have two work projects, three house projects and two personal projects. Honestly, I didn’t accomplish much in July because of sickness and related lethargy.
The Mortgage Is Slowly Ebbing
I enjoyed seeing how much the mortgage dropped since July 2017. A monthly extra payment means even the regular payment reduces a greater and greater percentage of the principle. At my current pace, I’ll have it paid off by July 2022.
Shortly after The Factory closed for the summer, I subtracted items from the dresser and closet: the stylish watch I never wear, worn-out shoes, etc. Then I made a little list of items I lacked: ankle socks, dressy shoes, closed-toe espradilles, and a blouse to dress up or down. And just like previous years, I wrote down “formal spring/fall coat.”
The shoes and socks were easy to find. I was extremely picky about the blouse; there are so many choices.
The formal coat, on the other hand, was a rare beast. Continue reading
My apologies for the length of time between posts. I was more-or-less homebound for a few weeks, and out of sheer boredom tore apart La Casa de Tontería (aka ThecHouse of Nonsense).
My dermatologist took a biopsy of a growing spot on my shin. It was benign, but the site became infected during a visit to my parents. (Especially annoying because I refrained from swimming to avoid dirty water.) The doc at Urgent Care prescribed a strong antibiotic.
The wound wasn’t healing properly after ten days of antibiotics, so my doctor prescribed an even stronger antibiotic. The caveat? A little thing called photosensitivity.
Photosensitivity is no joke, my friends. I slathered myself with SPF 45 sunblock but still managed to get sunburned in partial shade at 3 pm!
Long story short: I am healed, and the garden is so very ugly. While I hid indoors, the weeds flourished. A pair of young rabbits have also taken over the back yard, much to the excitement of Willow, the neighbor-dog. I quite like them, especially the dumb bunny who has only the mildest fear of the ponderous creature that surveys the yard (aka me).
I took a couple mini vacations and returned to an undisturbed Casa de Tontería.
Or so I thought.
Yesterday I spied a strange sight near the bathroom door: a tiny artsy mobile shivering in the wake of my passing. I put my glasses on and took a closer look.
Gossamer threads sported teeny husks of insects.
Yuck! I tolerate most insects outdoors, but indoors, no. But an exterminator could make them no deader than they are.
It’s been very dry for over a week – just a half day of rain – and various creatures have been seeking water. As they came up through some hairline opening along the bathroom doorframe, a spider awaited.
Plus teeny flies – we call them “sink flies” – came out as the pipes dried. They lived and died while I was away, their bodies lying in the basin until I scrubbed my hands and washed them out.
I imagine them throwing parties, getting drunk, and taking things too far while the landlady was away. I hope they had fun.
And I’m firing up the vacuum in case I find any stragglers.
This morning came a knock on the door. (The neighbors don’t know how a doorbell works.) I answered it and found a little blond boy, aged seven or eight.
”You know over there?” He pointed to the neighbor’s overgrown brush. “Have you seen…? If you see my neighbor’s black and brown cat, it is lost.”
We discuss how much of the cat is black and how much is brown. We also discuss the monsterous brown tiger that sits on my deck and pretends he owns my garden and the fluffy black cat that hides under the front azalea near my front door.
”What’s the cat’s name?” I ask.
”I don’t know. It has two letters.”
”If I see it, should I call someone?”
“I don’t know the number.”
Addendum: The cat’s name is LT and the second house on the left at the end of street has lost him. Also, his dog – a husky which struggled mightily to get past my legs and into the house – is 18 months old.
In April, I joked about going a year without buying anything. I declined the challenge because it sounded impossible.
Since then, I have gotten a better explanation of what that means. Continue reading
But not with your whole body, and certainly not while trying to catch yourself with one hand.
Yes, Klutziness (my superpower) reared its head this week and bodyslammed me as I was carrying shopping into La Casa de Tontería. I reached out with my free hand to catch myself and did, but then I slid. The motion was like sanding wood, only I sanded myself.
I picked up souvenir splinters. The doctor was able to remove the biggest, but my body can work the little six.
Strangely enough, the splinters didn’t hurt as much as the bruised, friction-burned area in my palm. At first I didn’t even notice my ring finger, which I cannot bring myself to describe.
I handled it with ice, disinfectant, and bandages. (I saw the doctor during my scheduled dermatology appointment.) Yet it’s amazing how a minor injury set me back.
I was prepping to paint the bathroom, but I can’t hold a pen, let alone a brush. So that plan is pushed back to the second week of July, between holidays and family events.
I’ve been two-finger typing this post, but mostly reading online. I’m also single-handedly cleaning my office (well, mostly. I can use a pincer grip between the unscathed thumb and forefinger.)
I should be ready to drive by the weekend and I’ll post again when I can.