On knees like mine, dragging a bunch of solid wood furniture and steel-frame furniture is…probably not the best of ideas. However, that wasn’t going to stop me any time soon: I’d lost track of my Fitbit clip somewhere in the apartment and it was going to bug me until I found it.
Which is why I was dragging and pivoting the bed—I thought it might have fallen back there at some point, and even if it hadn’t, it’s been a while since I cleaned under the bed.
Lift. Shove. Pivot. Squeeeeeze.
Eventually I managed to get it perpendicular to the sofa, which meant I could get at the outlet… and a veritable CAIRN of receipts—I do mean a cairn, too—I got underneath those things and started finding things I thought I’d lost a while back. As I shove them into their proper locations I decide “Well as long as it’s easy to get to I can make the bed before I put it back.
AN HOUR LATER
“Urrrrgh! MOVE, dammit!”
The wheelchair is NOT moving in the way I would have liked it to be moving. It’s blocking a chest of drawers AND the bed somehow, and I have to get that thing out of its old location because I will PROBABLY need to access it sometime soon depending on the verdict about my knee. But the thing isn’t moving. So I pick it up.
Remember when I mentioned moving the steel stuff being a bad idea? Yep. The thing takes ten minutes to move,and then it doesn’t even fit where I was planning on putting it? Frak.
See, this happens once in a while: my brain gets to me and I manage to somehow lose track of sense, and I have to reconfigure the apartment to make sure that I don’t go nuts. I’d just intended to find my clip, but then…
AN HOUR LATER
“Goes. Stays. Goes. Why do I still have this? Stays. Goes. Laundry. HEY, there’s the clip.”
I take a second to put my FitBit on properly and then RESUME dragging the bed. It is now a few inches to the right, and flush against the radiator. An outlet is no longer covered and creating a fire hazard. But now the COUCH is flush with my work chair and the table is…well. calling the space it’s left into ‘small’ would be an understatement. My knees are currently smushed into the tiniest of spaces as I type, actually. But there’s space now, right? Much better!
AN HOUR LATER
By this point, I’m more surprised that I’m not hungry again yet than at anything else. I’ve swept, picked up and discarded loads of stuff, swept again, picked up more stuff. MORE SWEEPING, and Oh look! Now I must move the giant tupperware bins of office supplies! FULL OF REAMS OF PAPER!
Drag. Drag. KICK. Drag—STOP
“Wait a minute.”
I open the second bin on a whim and find something I’d been looking for: my checks.
No more spending five bucks on a money order when I need to send money.
Bed’s made, bins are put up, wires are—well, the wires still need a little bit of help…but it’s done now. Bit late for a winter wrap-up, but that’s what we’ll call it.
Now I’m going to SLEEP. I’m exhausted now.
So you know the hole in my wall? The one that's been there several weeks now and still hasn't been repaired?
Well, I was brushing my teeth and A FUCKING MOUSE came up through it.
A FUCKING MOUSE.
I have a mouse in my apartment because Maintenance department won't do its fucking job and fix the hole it knocked in my wall.
…It's not even a healthy mouse. I outran it and managed to chase it back down THE OTHER HOLE IN MY APARTMENT (the gas line in the floor) and back out. (Seriously, it was a sickly little bastard.)
Tomorrow after work I'm moving furniture, bleaching the floor, putting down borax, and rearranging my shit. Then I'm putting down more glue traps.
So much for getting to sleep! I can't sleep after that! THERE'S A FUCKING MOUSE!
So I crack a lot of jokes about it being so hot it’s hard to focus, right? Well, this time there’s no hyperbole involved.
I was working on one of the 012 storylines, when—
“…‘ba-bam?’” I repeat. I then turn to face my window unit, which has abruptly powered down. Before I can get there, however, it goes back on. I turn it back onto the proper settings and—
The A/C slowly winds down. But the power seems to just sort of go out of it.
Then it kicks back on, but the compressor isn’t working. In short, I now have a weak fan where I once had a weak air conditioner unit.
Hilarious fact: less than an hour earlier my dad called me on the phone, wondering if I had use of an air conditioner unit. It was fifteen minutes alter that the damn thing did a cough-splutter at me and died.
I’m gonna try to get a 100 Things post written, but this apartment’s creeping up into 90°F range, and that’s gotten clear outside of my endurance. Between the heat and the probably heat-induced stomach cramping and headache, I’m looking at a rough night.
So it’s come to my attention that occasionally, the tags that I insert for the 100 things challenge aren’t working like they’re supposed to—they wind up directing to 100 Things challenges, all right. Just everyone else’s, not mine.
This isn’t a problem with LJ—it’s a problem with my desktop client. WLW doesn’t support LJ tags, and WebStory supports them—but they’re handled a la Wordpress, and so clicking a tag takes you to the Yandex search results, NOT my entries.
If a tag manages to lead you off of my LJ, drop me a comment in the comment section: I’ll have to go in and fix it manually. It’s a little annoying, but we can’t really have people not being able to find things just because of a little glitch in the coding of a client.
The next 100 Things post will be coming at a more reasonable hour than one in the morning. It’ll be one that almost all of us can relate to—and if you can’t relate to it, I’m going to have to ask for the examples that prove why, because nothing fixes this one quite like lampooning the offenders.
ONE MORE THING:
Don't be surprised if the look of my LJ here changes a few times in the upcoming fortnight or so; I'm trying to decide if I want to commit to a new layout, and I'll be trying loads of them until I decide. So no, you aren't going mad--the blog DOES look a little different.
I’m exhausted. I had one of those long shifts today—though not a murder!shift, when I run laundry AND housekeeping on the same day. However, it ran me down about the same level as one of those would have. I have the interesting problem of being the only one who can consistently handle the heat in the laundry room now, and the problem is compounded by the fact that it’s gotten to the point where it’s too hot for me, even—I can’t drink water fast enough to keep up with the heat, and that heat is considerable.
We’re talkin’ 100°F plus in that laundry room. It gets toasty.
I just caught myself fantasizing about breakfast: maple bacon, cream of wheat with a splash of that Natural Bliss cream, super-buttery scrambled eggs, chunk of fresh bread, and a little bit of pomegranate juice to finish it all off with.
Then I remembered that my fast doesn't end until noon tomorrow.
*watches as the trickster Coyote takes a pin and deflates the fantasy*
Oh well. One more day won't kill me.
The original intention this morning was to get up, get cleaned, get the laundry done, and then get to the store so that I could grab a couple giant bottles of açai juice. (I love the stuff, and with what my body’s been doing to me lately, it’s probably a good idea to lay in a stock of the stuff, just to make sure that my insides don’t rust on me.)
I got out of a just-shy-of-burning tub and headed straight for the outfit I’d pulled out of my closet space. (I like to hang them up on a hanger a piece, complete and ready to go. …well, minus undergarments and socks. Hanging up undergarments would just be silly—and how the Sam hell do you hang up a pair of socks?)
The top was really cute, and it’d go well with those flare-cut jeans—
( OHSA NOES! )
EDIT: 1:28 PM. It's looking a little slim that I might make it out of the apartment today. Besides the persistent brainzaps, I've got all this JUNK to organize. If I don't appear online by 3, it means that I've managed to get some errands run after all and that I'm most likely out of the apartment.
( OHSA NOES! )
I’m so freaked out by the bad news that the good news barely registers right now.
The good news is: I just got some money: enough so that surviving the month isn’t altogether an insane proposition.
However the bad news is that the therapist that I was supposed to see canceled on me.
That was the first available open slot. Now I have to go hunting for another therapist. And fast. Because I’ve noticed that what I can handle gets to be a little less every day.
Excuse me while I bang my head against this wall.
On the way to work I set up my phone for easy uploads of interesting crap.
Like these crabapples. They'd be pretty enough to eat except I have no idea if they are even edible.
But the search for stuff reminded me of something I usually avoid: webs. And nests.
Specifically, bagworm nests.
( Whut? )
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