Blogging of more stupid crap, simply because I've got nothing else to say, and I've gotta get this crap done.
After a night of little sleep (I'm sure yesterday's caffeine binge had NOTHING to do with it), I've finally surfaced in a semi-lucid state. Have given up on the living room for now (long story, may explain below), and am back in my work room for the day. I'm falling back on an old trick I learned from my mother, when feeling overwhelmed by a cleaning job: pick one spot, work at that until it is DONE, then work outward from there. So. Today's smaller project, the table that I will eventually use as Dye Central once things are organized.
As always, it is amazing how much easier it is to put things away once I move all the crap from in front of the shelves. Also, how is it I have two sewing machines?
Husbeast has put reds in with the other clothes again. You'd think he had learned after the Pink Underwear Incident. Apparently not.
Cautiously stirred a laundry basket to see what surfaced. Found my backup girl knife and a buck fifty-three in change.
Took a better look at my trashed loom while moving it. I think I can fix it, once I'm done being infuriated about it. In, you know, another year or two.
Holy fuck. There's a table under all this stuff!
Husbeast has been stashing ice cream in my office fridge/freezer. Hmmm.
And then, BOOKS.
More weeding-out of books I want to re-read. Some of these paperbacks I haven't seen in six years and it's like a visit from old friends. But it sure slows down the unpacking.
You know, unpacking goes a lot faster when I'm not hauling each load of books down a flight of stairs.
Child is throwing her stuffed animals down the stairs for fun. Have decided not to worry until she tries it with Sekhmet.
One more box of books unpacked. Woohoo!
Afraid to open the last box on the table. It is labeled "computer things". Given the track record of these movers and the way the rest of my office seems to have been packed, the gods only know what is in here. Okay. Cover me. I'm going in.
Box is initialed by the same person who trashed my loom. Oh, there's a fuzzy feeling.
The box is full of - big, BIG shock - books. Mostly refrence that was NEAR my desk, but how in hell is that 'computer stuff'? Sure, she shoved some CDs down between the books... oh, bugger it. The packer was obviously a moron.
Sekhmet has appeared from somewhere to swear at me for messing with her space. Ha.
Who in fuck packs books UPSIDE DOWN?
Hey, I'd been looking for that pencil.
Once in a while, I really miss the ability to get stinking, fucked-up drunk. Like, oh, now. (With all the medication I'm on, a bender makes me violently sick AND pushes me a bit closer to liver disease. Around here, washing down pills with alcohol of any kind is known as "pulling an Elvis".)
Sekhmet just came in, stunk up the entire room, sneered at me, and walked back out. Fucker.
Running out of steam. I DID find the top of the table... and am doing laundry. Thinking I'll shelve these books and call it a day. Or at least take an extended break.
Goober just threw her stuffed animals over the stair railing and yelled "WHEE! IT'S RAINING STUFFIES!" Imagining what the first four years would have been like in a house with stairs. Eeek.
Shelving all the conspiracy theories behind the door.
All rightie. Books put away. Still a pile of discs here, but until the computer's running that's not a biggie. Gonna call today a win and have a sit-down.