While the guys are here painting (still), I've taken the opportunity to get a few things done around the house -- one of which has been cleaning out my closet. My closet is not a small one -- when we added on to our house several years ago, I sacrificed space in what is my computer area for closet space. My closet -- which I do not share with Mark -- he has his own -- is the size of a small room -- probably something like 10 x 15. The problem with a big closet, though, is that I use it for a dumping ground so you name it, it's in there. This morning, I found several Backstreet Boys books (I was a cougar before being a cougar was cool) which are now posted on Paperbackswap, many items of clothing -- and shoes -- which I haven't worn in I- don't-know-when, and best of all, a ruby and diamond ring which I thought was lost and long-gone. It's been missing for a couple of years -- except that it wasn't missing at all -- it was in the jewelry box all along, on the top level with all the other rings, but in another compartment. Why I didn't search that thoroughly before, I have no idea. I must have given it a cursory pass and then just accepted that I'd lost forever a pretty expensive and unusual bauble. Anyway, it was sort of like getting an early Christmas gift from heaven. So thanks, Big Guy.
My kitchen is being painted today -- which means it's covered in plastic. Which means no cooking. Which is not a bad thing. I went out to lunch with a friend, did a little shopping and we'll go over to my mother's for dinner tonight. Maybe by tomorrow, the kitchen will be open but, honestly, other than the mess, I don't care. Cooking is not my favorite thing -- along with cleaning and all of those domestic duties for which I'm ill-suited. Fortunately, when I married, I made no promises in either department -- so you get what you pay for. It's not like I popped up years later and said I was no longer performing those tasks. I said that pretty much from the beginning. I actually do cook and clean and I even do laundry. But mostly, I don't. Or, I guess you could say, I squeak by. The complaint line forms at the rear -- and stuffing them there is pretty much what you can do with them.
Still no Christmas decorations out, save one Nativity set -- which is only out because it was ordered this year and came in the mail. We don't have a tree yet -- nowhere to put it yet -- the den was almost finished until we decided the trim needed painting since we'd painted the trim everywhere else. I don't envy them painting the kitchen area -- the trim in there is dentil molding (I always thought it was "dental" because it looked like teeth but apparently I was mistaken) and it's not like you can just brush the paint on that. Quite tedious, I'd imagine.
My father was a painter. A working man who headed up the painting crew for the Board of Education in my home town. As a child, I used to help him paint all the time (not at his job but at home, etc.). Nowadays, I'd probably just make a mess. Well, it's as good an excuse as any. Hey, I figure people need work (these folks do) so I'm happy to be able to pay and let somebody else do the job -- and do it better than we ever could.
I think everything will be finished around here by Wednesday and maybe things will get back to normal. Except it's December and what's ever really normal in December?
Not a blessed thing.
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As an aspiring writer, I blog about whatever happens to move me at the moment -- though some posts contain serious content, my big-picture goal is to bring a little humor into an often humorless world! Welcome, y'all, and make yourself at home! Please make sure you update your bookmarks!
When you are offended at any man's fault, turn to yourself and study your own failings. Then you will forget your anger...Epictetus