Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Enjoyed CapeCypsy's party this afternoon. It was a pleasant, low-key affair at her home, in the shade of a big oak tree in her yard. I hadn't been to her house before, which is VERY small, but cute and cozy inside. She's got two dogs; one is in love with me, because I know where to scratch. The other one was more standoffish, but her amiable cat made up for it.

As advertized, I wore the long black skirt and new belt, cinching a white tee printed with swags of necklaces, embellished with rhinestones. To give depth, I added a necklace of my own of black beads and crystals and a big acrylic heart as a focal point. (Formerly on a 59-cent Goodwill keychain.) Black and silver flats peeped out from under the hem, and I was crowned with a natural straw hat. Same general style as the one in my icon---flat crown, brim with a rim---but no flowers and just a plain black ribbon with a bow in the back.

Some random woman in the parking lot at WalMart told me I looked pretty, and I was a bit dressier than the other guests. More compliments, to which I modestly said "Thank you", but I quite truthfully added that it was acquired knowledge, not something I was born with. Didn't mention that I'd made a NYR a few years ago not to go out looking like a schlump. I am occasionally a tad overdressed for WalMart.

I'm yawning and ready to head up to bed. I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't be the only one blowing off church tomorrow morning!
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Yesterday was grey and angsty, with intermittant tears. Not having heard anything to the contrary, I was sure Kat was hospitalized in Oklahoma on her death-bed. Turned out that she'd been treated for dehydration and released, but I didn't find that out until after 9 PM, when I called GK to ask for an update. Meanwhile, I was exhausted from 24 hours of agita and made the mistake of taking a 4-hour "nap".

After being let off the hook, metaphorically speaking, I kicked back with the leftover BBQ from Thursday night and my favorite episode of Criminal Minds---Third Life, the one where Fred Lehne (the YED from SPN) is a former hitman in the Witness Protection program whose daughter's been kidnapped.

Thanks to that so-called nap of mine, I couldn't sleep---I was up til 6 AM working on a yuletide prompt, for which I already have 1200 words. Very familiar fandom---I haven't officially written in it before, but like Dark Angel, I know it well enough not to be intimidated. Plus, the prompt made me go "Oooh!".

Got four hours of sleep, ran up to WalMart/the bank, came back, had pastrami and cheese on an asiago roll. Just enough time for that before J arrived to collect me for dog training at 2.

An aside: The other day, Red emailed me ( this meme )

Anyway, I filled it out and emailed it to a handful of folks who I thought would have fun with it (because I know not everyone is into memes---I personally am OVER the "4 things" meme, which I've gotten every few weeks in one form or another for the last four years.)

After two training sessions and a late dinner with J, I got home, came in and checked my emails, and there was one from CapeGypsy, replying to the meme and saying that Santa had dropped by and left a pink tree in my car. Which I'd walked right past, obliviously, since it was dark and clammy out.

I ran out there and behold! There was the oblong box AND a square flat box with 18 gold balls. I have a tree, huzzah. The lights are already wired to it---white lights, exactly what I would've picked anyway!---and it took longer to fluff it than it did to set it up. Mind you, it's not decorated, and I'm going to spend as much of tomorrow afternoon as I can clearing a space for it in the office, because it IS where I spend the most time, and I *do* want to enjoy it.

Aside from a wee 8" tree I had on my desk at the billing service, I haven't put up a tree in years. Either I haven't had the space or haven't had the inclination. This is going to be fun, and it definitely qualifies as being pleasantly surprised!

I have a little bendy poodle made out of some plush pipe cleaners or something like that...I am going to see if I can add a little wire and turn her into a tree topper.

And now I am going to take my sleepy self off to bed---and to all a good night!

Regular readers will have heard me lament about the state of my house. I know that slovenly housekeeping is something of a cliche, and a great many people talk about what a horrid state their house is in when what they are REALLY saying is, "There are eight pieces of mail laying on the coffee table and I haven't vaccuumed since Saturday week."

No, that's not where I'm at. Mind you, I'm not at the point where I'm in danger of being buried alive by my crap, and since I haven't cats or kids I'm not worried about actually being condemned by the health department---but it's bad. Too-damn-much-crap bad.

I need repairs done inside and out asap. Getting someone in here to do it? Even if it's help from a state or county program---especially if it's from a state or county program---okay, so I might have some trouble if official types got a look at the mess.

Not to mention how much it overwhelms me.

Anyway, where I'm going it this is, last Monday evening at Supper Club, CapeGypsy and her hubby offered a proposition---if I clear out a certain volume of stuff, he/they will help me with some of the work I need. Not the roof, alas, but painting, basic carpentry, hauling stuff off for me, like that.

The volume is going to be the tricky part. Do you know what a "contractor bag" is? It's a trashbag that's FIVE FEET LONG. Holy shit, that is one huge freaking bag! (My initial reaction was,"That's not a trashbag, it's a condom for Godzilla!") According to Gypsy, there's no limit on how much they can put in the dumpster at their complex, and they're encouraging me to do three bags a week, and be ruthless, says MrGypsy.

I got the bags Friday at the housewarming party and thus far I've filled ONE of those gaping bags just from the crap lying around my room and the adjacent bath. Hey, it's a start.

Ruthless does not describe me very well---I am a major sentimentalist---and I'm flinching at the thought of dumbing things into bags and banishing them. The Gypsys say that they'll drop off anything worthy of donation, so it's not like it'll go to waste...I'm trying to convince myself that really, I DON'T need it.

So that's what's going to be going on in my life for a while to come. Stay tuned for future freak-outs.