We have another Christmas party to attend tonight.
I am convinced it’s a communist plot to get me out of my Danskin hoodie and make me actually brush my hair and put on some lipstick. After all, I am retired, but, as I constantly say, I have to be in this neighborhood for a long time, so you have to socialize with friends and neighbors.
This social schedule makes me double-time my Fit Bit stepping, and add the fact that it gets darker a little quicker makes it an issue for me. I try to get Zosia’s medicine in her and then we try to go and a decent walk in.Not only does it get my steps in but it gets both girls some exercise and empty tanks, as a rule.
Please be careful, dear reader,if you are out and about, as you realize that alcohol, in some form, is usually at a holiday party.After all, it would be nice to be able to see many more holiday parties for years to come.
I have a treasured memory that I managed to save from my Mom.
I remember this bucket from childhood.
What’s so special about it?
It’s my Mom’s clothespin bucket.
I can remember as a toddler being in the back yard of Mitchell Street, with the clothesline hung and Mom carrying up the laundry from the cellar steps.It is how I got my first job for Mom. I stood next to her and was allowed to hand her a clothespin when she asked for it. Sure, I worked my way up to hanging handkerchiefs, hanging straight sheets, and later fitted sheets.
I don’t remember when the bucket list its’handle, but every time the bucket is next to me in the yard, I can feel Mom in her house dress and her kerchief wrapped around her head.It is kind of bizarre to say you feel warmth from a bucket of clothes pins, but I do.
So now the temperature has tickled the upper 50’s here at night.
My love for mums are overrun by my displeasure for switching closets for clothes. It’s worse now, as I had put the clothes away once, managed to box them up for the season,still within the elbow high pressure of unpacking from the move.
I admire people who have closets arranged by season.Perhaps someday, I’ll find the time, energy and inclination to do it.
I am tired.
News flash, right?
Seriously, I need to get my act together and get back to unpacking and donating and washing and trying to figure out what to keep and what to trash.
Did I mention I hate moving?
The first 2 weeks it gave me something to focus on, and it was ok.Now we are almost at the one month mark and I went into the middle room, looked at it and closed the door and went back out. I mean, seriously….there has got to be a better way. I have convinced myself that a chunk of tomorrow will be dedicated to getting in there and clearing some of it out.I admit, it didn’t help today that my favorite show, Law and Order Criminal Intent, was on today which kept me toward the front of the house.I am going to try Netflix on my Kindle tomorrow and hopefully it’ll get me back in motion of fixing the house up right.
Film at 11.
We are going through the house and trying to put some things away this weekend.
There’s a pile for the attic, and we have made a few bags of donations to the local church, but how can you work at putting things away when you have to be a math major? Sure, there is common sense that x amount of handbags can only fit in such a spot.As my work career is not that far behind me at this point, and maybe, just maybe a job will be in my future, how do you figure out what you’d need without hiding it out in an attic.
You can go on-line and find out storage solutions and, honestly?There are the two of us and two dogs.Then there are 12+years of marriage to weed through and prior life things to keep.
I’d like to think that I don’t have to hurry about this, although it would be nice to have the house shape up a little better. A few short tables or bookcases, things of that sort, but in the meanwhile, working out the glitches seems to be the next step.
Sometime before I turn 65, I hope to relax on a Friday.
People have often told me how jealous they are of Undisclosed and our ability to go there. What folks don’t realize is we try to dean up here Thursday night and Friday.After that comes the packing.Dirty clothes for washing over the weekend, food to restock the pantry,clean clothes,things that we’d need down the house and the like.
In short, It’s a job.
Comes Sunday I have to reverse the procedure and multiply it by the fact the, quite frankly, you just don’t want to come back to the city.Last summer we thought we’d never have to ride in shore traffic again, and yet here we are,repeating the process.
Come on, retirement!
If there is anything worse than transitional weather, it has got to be transitional weather when you are moving between two houses.
Rain, no rain, heat, humidity, sandals, pumps, sneakers, capris, jeans…**grabbing my head**…make it go away! After the winter we had, I am a tad apprehensive at storage bagging up all the fall and winter stuff, because what if you need something long-sleeved? For me, it almost borders obsessive, but hey,I know it has to get done.Then, to follow-up, there are shoes. A zillion percent humidity and you would think sandals are the key? Murphy’s law means thunderstorms all through the day.Nothing like being wet and working in an air-conditioned office.
Give me the old days where spring actually existed and summer heat was June, July and August.