Monday, August 14, 2006

Clutter, mono and life.

Well, it's Monday. Sun came up, world seems to be moving on regardless of what I want so...might as well go with it. Someone knows something I don't. Hell, a lot of people know things I don't know. Like what you're thinking right now. Or what colour of carpet is in the hotel rooms I stare at every day from my little cube. Or how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

Woodchucks (giggle)... there's this slot machine in the Vegas airport...

But I digress. I'm not here to talk about wood, chucking or slot machines.

Well, then, what am I here to talk about? Me, of course. This is the one place that it really is all about me. Let me have that, would ya?


Yesterday I cleaned. Cleaned my kitchen, did laundry, vacuumed - where the HELL does all that cat hair come from???? I only have 2! And to make it worse, I combed Bailey yesterday. This morning, I find the comb I used laying on my bedroom floor. My freshly vacuumed floor covered in the hair she pulled out of the comb. Yes. I knew better.

I have too much of my mom and grandma in me. I grew up on a farm. There are times of the year that there's too much to be done outside the house and the housework goes undone. You need to have a tolerance for clutter, or at least such tolerance will be forced on you. Well, tolerance or insanity. So I can deal with it if there are magazines on my coffee table or dirty dishes on the counter.

Or so I thought. Last night, I walked into my bedroom after all of my hard work (I so hate cleaning), and it was refreshing. Instead of feeling all this negativity about the work that needed to be done... it was clean. Spacious. The clutter distracted from what I'd done in there. I'd focus on the bad and ignore the rest. The great paint on the walls - even if it needs a touch up here and there. The ceiling fan. The potential.

I was excited. Which isn't conducive for sleeping, but that's what those other pills are for. No, not sleeping pills. This prescription the doc gave me to settle my mind down at night.

Anyway...apparently the pills don't help with daily distractions and tangents! I got thinking about what I want again. And what I want is my bedroom done. I want it to be like crashing in a hotel every night. Of course that also means keeping it clean after this is all done. Or hiring a maid.... I think keeping it clean myself is the better plan.

I want my bathroom done. Complete with new faucets and tile. I want curtains, and laminate. I want a duvet cover and new bathroom towels.

There are some things in life I can't control. My environment is something I can control. Ok, so I hate cleaning and tidying. Seems so responsible and grown up. But it's better than the alternative - that dragged down feeling one gets when their environment is a mess.

Avoid this like the plague. Seriously. Ok, it likely won't kill you. And it isn't quite plague-worthy when it comes to being contagious, but it sucks. Seriously. It's been about a month now for me having it. I've lost at least 10 lbs. I still have no appetite. Forced myself to make a pancake for breaky yesterday. Ate half of it. Ditto the S'getti marinara I made for supper last night.

Let's face it, the weight isn't going to be missed, but it's still pretty crappy to feel like this. At least the exhaustion is gone. Went for a walk Friday night in the rain. Walked from my place, down to 153, over to 97th, up to the Save On-foods and back to my place through Eaux Claires. About an hour for all of that and it made me feel good. Then I had a bath to warm up and head to bed. I think that the walk is going to become a nightly thing.


I need one. Kidding. I have one. And it's pretty good. Great job, amazing friends, cool cats (attention seeking, hair producing, puke machines....), a nice condo, nice car. My feet are fairly well planted on the ground, although I've been known to expect too much. I can travel. I can do the renos. I had someone in my life who showed me the person I can be. And I'll appreciate that forever.

I'm a loner. That's part of my problem. I really just don't like people. Apparently shyness is all about being self centered. It's an interesting take on it. I shouldn't say I don't like people. People are fine. There are even some great people (see my friends), but there are a lot of people who aren't so great. After you've been exposed to them enough times you just figure what's the point? It's going to denigrate into gossip, backstabbing and pain in the end. Take POF for a prime example.

Shy? Nah. Self protective? Yep. I like to get a feel for things before I jump in with both feet. Feel for people. It doesn't help that I'm different. In a good way. I mean, I am who I am. I quilt and cross stitch and own power tools. I don't do the bar thing. I tend to not drink much at all. I curl and watch hockey and ignore the news. It's not like I have a lot of conversation jumping off points.

Ah well. I can be self centered. I mean, ignoring the news would indicate that in and of itself, wouldn't it? But I just don't see the point of dragging my life down with endless bad news stories. You never see "man helps seniors cross busy street" reports. The front page is devoted to tragedy, war, crime. Somewhere in the middle there's that article about the guy who saved a dog from the river or something - if it even gets reported.

It's that kind of thing that has created a society that is cynical and angry. Terrorism is going to happen whether I know about it or not. People die. Things burn. Wars are waged. Boom... Bust. There's nothing I can do to control it or stop it. The important stuff is going to be related to me in other ways - radio in the morning, conversations with friends, terror alerts in email at work.

I've been asked how I stay so positive. How I have so much life in me. Maybe it's because I don't let the world drain the life from me. It hasn't made me bitter and cold. Sure, I'm likely viewing life through rose coloured glasses. Big deal. I'm HAPPY.

If you're happy and you know it clap your hands....

Sheesh, why so few people clapping?


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