Resolutions

January is no time for resolutions or major changes. Always the most difficult semester. Normally, I prefer a good, cold, snowy month about now, to clear the mind, brace the sinews. Given our upheaval, the mild dampness is a relief, if not a joy. This place is not as warm, nor easy to heat, as a tiny apartment. Milder weather is our friend this year, until we can manage better insulation next year.

The most joyous aspect is, as so often, Moby. He's a much happier cat. He chases, and jumps and explores. He sleeps on us at night, sits on laps during the day, and when picked up, he snuggles in and refuses to be put down - purring like mad at every moment. He eats better than we've seen him do in years, especially the last few months - when we began to rather worry. He sleeps sound, and quietly, unlike the increasing snoring at the apartment.

In short, he seems a much happier cat, glad for more space, more stimulation.

My own sinuses are more comfortable.

The plumbers came yesterday, and the hook-ups are all done. Apparently, the latter owners had a washer - but all kludged, and the drain-sewer connection had broken, so the water simply pooled in the clay beneath the concrete. Not too bad at this point, but if we'd left it, there would have been damage to the foundation. Yes, I think House wanted us, certainly needed us. Quite the mess down there, damp rubble, but that's just fine. D cleaned all the mud from the floor today.

Getting locks next week, since the back door can't be opened from outside, and the front is another bit of botch that also turns the wrong way. Hopefully, that will be the end of the larger expenses for a while.

Tomorrow, we shelve the books and sort the rest of the clothes - figure out what exactly we will need to take to the laundromat before the appliances come on Saturday next.

So tired, but underneath, gladness.

Twelves

Too tired, taut, trebled.
Thoroughly thrashed, triumphant.
Thoughtfully threaded.



At 13 hours from starting, we are well and truly done in, although not entirely done. But close enough for the time available. Very much close enough. Feels like how I feel after a hard twelve hour shift.

The two guys from work, scrub techs, each with amazing lives and skills. Both young and strong and uninjured, unlike D and I. But we are persistent. I knew they were going to be a blessing. Insisted on paying them as we finished the furniture, both refused, claimed I offered too much. Dave* nearly recoiled. "I won't force it but hear me out. This is what I'm paid per hour. It's fair. More than fair." Managed to have both see that their work meant so much to us, they deserved it, and I wouldn't have asked them if I'd not been able to compensate them for their time and effort on Saturday morning.

D's brother arrived with his FIL's truck, and pitched in with energy. Gave him gas money. D's parents guarded Stuff in the lobby, took what they could manage. Once we hit our wall, we called it quits, ordered Chinese for lunch, and sat with D's brother and parents, at the table. In our Dining Room. We are both pleased and daunted by our responsibility.

Both of us pushed to our limits, mostly by ourselves.



*Different Dave. Daves don't get initials or pseudonyms, because, well, why bother?

Outsmarted

On my first day as a traveling nurse at the ambulatory surgery recovery room in Boston, I had difficulty with the old, unfamiliar type of gurney. Told, "You have to be smarter than the gurney." I was a bit taken aback, seemed a bit insulting and confrontational - but I smiled and nodded, ha ha. After a couple of weeks, when I realized that there was an example of every kind of stretcher in existence, many ancient, many buggered up badly, and it didn't seem as much of a put-down at all. Each one had it's own eccentricities. The older ones, the survivors, were often more reliable, if more likely to pinch an unwary finger, than the new ones with lots of cheap and plastic parts.

Today, I had to outsmart the bedframe. It looked to be winning for quite a while, but eventually I cornered it and put it on the mat. It's now in the car, awaiting the magic words from the agent that we can greet HousetheHome officially into our family. Trying to be patient. The beginning of every journey of a thousand miles starts with - waiting, then leaving, then going right back to pick up the thing you forgot, before finally heading out, and realizing you've still forgotten something, but you can do without it so you keep going. Single step my ass.

Quick

Queen of questions, Why.
Quietly a quarrelsome.
Quorum of quizzes.


Better. Crashed at 730 last night. Woke, thinking, It'll be 0300. It was 11 PM. Sighed, laid back. Again, woke, thought, Oh, please, it's got to be about 0300.... 1245. Poop. Resolved to stay down, woke again and thought, Nope, not playing that game again, it's rigged. 0230. Bugger. Next time, didn't even look at the clock, but staggered to the bathroom, back, tucked in. Cat walked on my abdomen, good thing bladder was empty. D sat up a time later, cat in front of him, purring madly. Finally, 0450 or so, we got up in exasperation. Figure I did get sufficient, if not constant, sleep.

Doing the whirlwind today, every damn thing tidied away in a box or bag, fold up the dhurri rug, start cleaning what I can reach. Hadn't planned on this day off, but immensely glad of it. Every plan has a fall back position if the first one fails. Have a dolly available, and at least one handtruck, and borrowed furniture moving straps.

Time to turn on music, and start the dance.

Sign

He's got my back, I have his. Seems to work pretty well.


Been this tired before. Not a surface, one-day tired, that's more sharp. This is a kind of long weary in my bones, knowing it's not over. A low, dull tone. I know this tired, it's an old and difficult friend. On top, I'm not really that worn, but there are sinkholes underneath. That I can't seem to sleep dumps a bit more weight. Up at 0330, could not drop off after, finally gave up got up. Having beer, hopefully will nap. Work offered to let me stay home tomorrow, and I agreed that it would be helpful. If only to keep me from bringing my chaos to work. That is my real concern, I can certainly get the last of the packing and cleaning done in good time. But my patients deserve a nurse with a fully functional brain, which I cannot quite provide right now.

Signing at 1000, went remarkably well. We'd been warned about the mass of paperwork to sign, and there was a considerable pile, but I've signed my name more times on the paper charting, per shift, when I worked long term care/hospice - admittedly many years ago. It took a little over an hour, everyone calm and attentive and professional, including us. The mortgage guy laughed that at our first meeting, we needed valium. I replied that a beer would have done. That's it, really, we worry at a problem until we get it solved, so when the time for action comes, we are over the fear and act properly. Agent L gave us a lovely little book with copies of all the paperwork so far, with a place for every other imaginable document for House the Home. I am inordinately pleased with that unexpected gift.



Agent L and Mortgage Guy laughing at our credit, it's ridiculously good, they claim they've never seen such high scores. Made the loan go through rather smoothly. We tried to be good clients, which is what they thanked us for. Treating people well does tend to bring out the best in already decent folk, mutual in this case. Still a few last steps, have to get the tax assessment changed when the state allows that, and get the key.*

Guys from work set to meet us here and move our problematic items. D's in-laws to bring truck, and hands. Beginning of a new phase of our lives.

I think Moby will love being able to really run around. Lots of windows. There may be birds.



*Being honorable and trustworthy, L let us hold it, but we are not to ever admit this to anyone. It is a hypothetical key, not to be acknowledged until all is Official. So, don't tell anybody.

Entering

Got to come home early, asked B, "may I go home and pack?" She said, "Go." And I went. Which is good because the tension has gotten a bit much for me. I'm decompressing now. With good beer.* When I got home, ate my lunch. They were putting my OR until last, because it looked like we would end in time. And more or less, we did. Although I don't do so well waiting until after 1PM to eat. Took me a while to get food in my face, because when I got home, Moby wanted attention. I picked him up, and he purred in my arms, claws in my sweater, for over ten minutes, not to be dislodged. D heated up the lunch I'd taken with me, and brought home. He got his hug, after Cat. Both seemed to need hugs, as did I. Moby has been rushing out the apartment door, as if to say "Ok, you're going, I'm off as well!" I may well just walk him over in my arms, as long as I can get his harness found and on him. He so hates the bag, and the car.

Yes, we are moving two blocks away. This does make it somewhat easier.

We're both pretty stressed. Not as bad as before the move to Boston. But all the paperwork and financial stuff is hitting us in a new spot. Ow, ow, ow... ow. But this really is not, as a whole thing, as bad as many of the issues we've dealt with before. D's shattered elbow, for one. Just very different. So many times we say ".... um, dunno." Like about what kind of outlet we need for the dryer, or who to hire for the chimney, or how to close the doorless garage. Puzzles for the brain, suggestions gladly accepted. Got a reference for a good plumber. He had shaky phone skills, but that's alright. That's not what he's being hired for. Wanted to go to the house tomorrow, but that isn't possible. Next week, at earliest.

Closing tomorrow. Funds are wired to the Title Co. Getting my signing hand warmed up, the opposite to the one with the dicky thumb. (Dicky thumb doing well, still using the brace at work to prevent re-injury.) Another day at work, then, well, we're off. Oh, best news so far, there are people in line for our apartment, so we might not have to pay lease breaking penalties nor an additional month of rent. Which means a comfy chair! Whoo-hoo!




We'll be fine. 'Don't worry, 'bout a thing. Cuz every little thing, gonna be alright.' P (really need better pseudonyms, like Writing as Jo(e) uses) at work sang this along with me as it played in the core on Monday. She related a story of a couple moving, a boatload of people showed up to help them move, and wife had a come-apart about too many hands not in her control. Full on panic attack, apparently. I assured P that if 30 people appeared to help us move, and everything got dumped in the living room, I'd be a happy pig in shit, indeed. Wow, wouldn't I be. I know how to deal with a pile of crap. As long as it's all in the right house. P is lending us the furniture moving straps, hopefully. If she forgets them Thursday, I may call her and insist she just come and help us move. Could really use her energy. My gods, the woman is a top, she cannot stop.

Drove by House twice in our last errands today, it really is a nice place. Made me smile just to look at. When D first saw it, on our way past to another Open House that day, it caught his eye. I have proposed that we take a few meaningful items for the first time. Not to be magical, but for the psychological comfort of seeing this as our home, and telling House that it will be our Home, so that we always look on the difficulties as our Careful and Compassionate honor to perform, not a hateful burden. House will be our Home. D plans to take in a guitar first, me, my tea and kettle. Maybe some incense, and a moment of asking permission, and entering gently. Respectfully, kindly. Some cat toys, ask it to be kind to it's new guardian and god. House needs to know it's loved, for what it is. As we all do.




*

Three out of the four ingredients in Simon and Garfunkel's third album make this Belgian-style farmhouse ale a perfect golden beverage with festive herbal notes.

Mess

Meandering mope.
Mousy, mouthy, muddled mind.
My manners mingle.


Finding that writing is a great comfort to me, as I get to various stopping points, where I can pack little else, or must rest awhile. For a very long time, I have wanted a household altar, a retablo, folk art display of our journey, expression of gratitude. A corner set aside for the sacred. There will be space for that soon. I have no idea what form it will take, but it feels important, not just a vague idea, eventually. Soon, this time.

Got out the tarot cards. No, I don't believe they have any future cognition, bits of paper. But they are human events, archetypes, that come up randomly, to ask one's own mind to look at one's thoughts differently - like art, or a good book at the right moment. And I'm not entirely convinced that synchronicity is entirely happenstance. As is often the case, I found it useful.

Much more packing today, corners cleared. There is always more. Rolled up the one rug, packed away clothes we won't need for this week, folded up some shelves. D looking at a very difficult day, and nothing I can do to help.

Oh, and Happy Static Electricity Day!

January 9th: National Static Electricity Day
Grab your balloons and sweaters! It’s time to uild up your static charge and conduct some electrons. This is the perfect holiday to occur in the dead of winter, when the air is extra dry – the optimal conditions for storing up those negative charges that shock you at the most unexpected times. (As suggested by Mental Floss.)

Hell

This is going to be a helluva week, no two ways. We've found the foam-board to cover the basement stairwell, D seems to think we will want to paint it, since it is pink. Well, ok, I suppose.

SIL offered to bring her father's pick-up on Saturday. I humbly answered, "Yes, please." She and BIL (both much younger than us) will be helping shift the load of crap, along with D's parents (only light items for them), for which we are very grateful. Will have to order Chinese for lunch, since none of us is big on pizza, and being LDS, they don't drink beer - no matter how good. Must remember on Saturday morning, to get that planned.

Have to keep in mind that we have time to move everything, and focus on A. The heavy stuff we need help with, and B. The stuff we need to use immediately. Everything else transferred with help is a bonus. Four days not at work, even with just the two of us, should get most of it done, really. Simply worried about re-injuring my back, and I really don't want to do too much and wind up on the floor weeping. Again. That's my nightmare, as my back, although stiff and recalcitrant about some movements, has been pretty reasonable about the whole pain thing recently. I want to stay on good terms with it. It really is, very, very slowly and incrementally, getting better. I can't tell you how much this means to me.

D's parents asked us what we needed at dinner last evening, and we both demurred. We hardly need a shower/housewarming at this stage of life. We always have done it backwards. Now, the idea of Free Stuff is appealing, until we think about it. I gave her a list, today, of lower-cost items that we really could use. I wrote her,

"You both asked us what we needed, and neither of us knew what to answer. A gift certificate to Home Despot? Or would you prefer something more fun to give? Um, gardening tools, seeds, guitar hooks (to go in a wall) an ergonomic snow shovel, a small bench for people to sit on while removing shoes, dust mop, colorful foam floor tiles (for the basement, the kind they use for kid's play areas) - is that better?

Not that we are asking for any of this, mind. But, yes, we would be grateful for your generosity. Please, though, your presence, your kindness, that truly is enough. D and I talked later about showers and housewarmings, and really, all gifts are a bit of an embarrassment for both of us. Help, company, advice, those are the best gifts, in the long run. "

Theme of the week, staying on good terms. I can do this. D has my back, we will be fine.

Knap

Kissing our knuckles,
Kneeling on knives, keenly knit.
Kicking out the kings.



So, everything is speeding up. We did want to move during the holiday weekend, especially since I have Friday the 13th off as well as the Monday. Thought it might happen, when the seller wanted us to close on an earlier date, but were told no. As of yesterday, that changed to a "Well, fine then." We'd accepted it, stopped asking, planned for the next week. Instead, D had to have all the utilities switched over earlier. We are glad of the time. But this has completely thrown my schedule into disarray. Oh, I can do it, no problem, but I've been working to this plan in my head, and now it all has to be readjusted. Or we just wing it.

When moving, I really like having a clear plan, however full of "ifs." I'd given up the idea of this IF because it was the easy option, unavailable.

I'm trying not to notice that the home mortgage rates are down from when we locked in, and still dropping. We had to take the boat at the dock when we were there, can't worry that the next one along was cheaper. Our boat is still as good as it was, and the fare is still fair.

Hobby

Although our inspector used the word foranoldhouse repeatedly, it is, as we suspected, in pretty should shape for it's age. A solid 100 this year, and there are wrinkles, but nothing fundamental to break the deal for us. Very thorough, overwhelming. It is going to be a new hobby for us. Both exhausted and anxious, but standing together. Quite the list, only a few that need to be addressed quickly.

Odd thing was that, although we've seen it twice before on two open houses, and it was essentially empty, today it was not. Before, a bed in one room, a glass desk in the living room, a few bits of athletic equipment in the basement. Today, pictures up, ornaments, books in all the bookcases, sofa in the living room, fridge covered with the usual stuff one puts on the fridge. We'd sort of heard someone might have been living there, but it seemed more like camping, caretaking, before. All very weird. And we decided we wouldn't like the guy anyway, for a lot of little tells.

Still couldn't take photos I could really show, because of someone else's stuff all over.

Had to go in to work this afternoon, at least it was a good four hours, made it worth the trip. Not really up to it, but I was in no position to complain, given that I had to beg off a shift I'd agreed to cover long ago.

Closing date has been moved up, so we might be able to move in sooner over the long weekend of MLK day. That would help.

Coal

Woman at work doing the minimum possible to keep from being fired. Not really my business, except when it directly and measurably is. Always an excuse, always someone else to blame, always the most work to circulate for. Has not taken any definitive steps to actually solving the problems, only surface changes, stop-gap lip-service, which is where I lose my patience. I report (only) the clearly reportable to the supervisor, mostly to protect the other scrub techs who she dumps work on. I can deal with moderately inept scrubs, but add in the malicious, neglectful attitude, and how it affects those who prefer not to say anything, and I feel a responsibility to the techs who are so capable and attentive and hard working. Certainly she will consider me a tattle-tale and a crank. She has great "self esteem" based on what she wants to be, not how she actually is.

All in all, it's all very sad. She has no idea how incompetent she is, how inconsistent. I was rooting for her to sort it out, because she's not stupid, she's just assumptive and entitled. Maybe that's not as amenable to correction as I'd hoped. Poor woman, if only she opened her own eyes to herself. But that's her job, and no one can do it for her.
_______________________________________________________________________________________


Thinking about scripts a lot this week, people living according to shoulds, twisting around their realities according to expectations. About holidays, weddings, houses, jobs, money, siblings, children. And how D and I have resisted and waited and transformed the assumptions. We met and became completely attached, then lived together, eventually married, changed my name years later - even to finally taking a middle name. Worked, then went and got degrees. Getting our first house in our 40s. Never wanted children, either of us. Bless the good parents, but don't count us in. We've done it all backward, but it feels right. Who knows what might be next?

Burn the scrips, throw them on the fire.

A couple of people at work right before I left, made a point of telling me how much work a house was going to be. (Not that anyone commenting here would do that... Phil*. ) Well, duh. Both of us grew up in houses, I've painted and drywalled and mowed, and stoked a coal furnace, painted the garage myself one summer, and everything else. D has much the same experience, aside from the coal. We are both thoughtful adults who know (more or less ) what we are getting into. Work, but for ourselves, and the Cat. We've chosen carefully, we've thought about this over many years. Telling us, "houses are work" is the same as saying "you have not thought about this, you idiot" in the same way as all those who told us we should buy a house when we were renting. Make up their fucking minds.

Marriage is hard, so those same kind of people say. Well when it's good, it's not hard work. It's attention and care, effort - but not a chore. Having children (for us would be) - miserable, but not for those who love it, and have a good match in their children. How many people think they should tell others that they SHOULD have children, like it has never occurred to them? Well, we are not kid people, never have been, never will be, not going to change because someone says "Oh, you Should!"

Oh, well, we never thought about that very important and personal decision, I guess we should have kids! Silly us! And we should never own a house because it's too much work. We should never have moved to Boston because it's SO Expensive! Cats destroy everything, never have a cat! Never get married, it's so hard!


Long ago, worked with a woman in her 30's having her first child, convinced it would not change their lifestyle at all - anyone pulling her aside, holding on to her shirt, screaming, "NO, Everything is going to CHANGE!" would be forgiven.

We are not doing that. We have a list of Things We Need to Do, and Things We Would Like To Do (some long term. Including having a train track around the top edge of the room.† ) We have a pretty good handle on it, after so many years. We are buying at the Bottom of the market, at a great interest rate. Unlike if we'd bought when everyone was telling us we HAD to buy a house.


We are up for this. We can do this, we are not stupid or deluded. "Everyone" is wrong. Everything you know is wrong. Know why you are doing something, it's not work at all.

And what if we die before the mortgage is done? Once we've rented it from the bank, but had space enough? What heirs need we worry about? Thirty years from now, or forty, or fifty? What difference? Now, to have space, and wood to resonate my own voice, and D's guitar, bliss.

Hopefully photos tomorrow, from us and the inspector. A day later - if I have to stay at work. I go in to work after 3, because I promised to cover for another RN, for the day, long ago, and completely forgot. But they covered for me, because I have to meet the sewer and house inspector at 10 and noon, & they got staff from the Main - but not after eight hours. Fair enough, they could have insisted I cover the shift, rightfully so. Tis the season. Monday off. Boxing Day. Works for me, as I will indeed be boxing up stuff.


Christmas would have been nice. I'll be doing Packing instead. Party for Groundhog Day in February. It's becoming official. I want someone to say, "You've lived here how long? And it looks this good?" D hedged, "well, if we get it that good." I sneered at him. Really. He knows better. I has a talent, I has skillz. It will be impressive.

Not enough chairs, though.







*Just joshing, Phil‡.
†How cool would that be?

‡And you get your own footnote to boot.

Bibimbap

Stopped over at Language Hat, a marvelous site that often goes right over my head. I like being reminded of just how smart people can be, reading about subjects beyond my ken. I consider myself pretty bright, which means to me having a sense of how much I don't understand. Among very smart folks, I happily sit at their feet, and try to ask intelligent questions.


Hat noted the addition of bibimbap to the OED, a wonderful sounding word, for a dish that sounds rather lovely. I hope someday to taste it. Never could manage kimchee, can't get it anywhere near my nose. Bibimbap, though, a word that tastes good all by itself.


D's parents called to meet us for lunch for our anniversary yesterday, apologetic about being two days late, not that we minded. Especially since they got us flan. I've really come to love them both, over the years. But then, I always love those most that I take longest to appreciate and trust. FIL wondering how we could pack with no room to put boxes. Well, I've done it before.

Books into boxes, boxes into the bookshelves, with shelves removed. Over-organizing for a move is a kind of reflex at this point. Fifteenth move coming up. If the gods of annoyance are kind, it will be the last one. I may have to rattle some drawers in praise of the Goddess Anoia. Fifteen boxes so far, books, careful not to over pack and make them too heavy, filled in with lighter objects like shoes. We're going to need quite a few more, yet. But not as many as if I had to pack everything to be shipped off in one go, taped and padded for a long journey. Despite reminding myself of this, the ramping up seems to be happening anyway. Best to just flow with it.

Abrasives

Tis the season when whatever has been put off is best used to take advantage of one's deductible, and there are the holidays to take off for healing. ORs are often most busy this time of year. We have picked up remarkably, which is good and exhausting together. For a week with random sleep, and too much to think about, both of us overwhelmed, the extra hours are also abrasive. Last night up several times, woke and could not settle again, slept a while, up again. Not restful.



Dr. A wrote a scrip for a thumb splint, which I was able to get fitted for in a gap between cases. It does feel better this evening. It looks fluid, but it is quite stiff, and protected my joint from the work of the day. Yes, I did get to pick the color.

Every year, she brings in really lovely grapefruit for each of the staff at Christmas, making no secret of her appreciation for our work. This year, it got delivered incorrectly, and non-staff helped themselves, instead of our office manager making sure everyone got one. I got missed, when she found out, she brought one in for me especially. She really didn't have to, no one's fault, but I am very grateful. I'll eat it whole tomorrow, with gusto.



I kept up, laughed, paid attention. A wave of weight and vague illness hit about 1600, only subsiding after I was home a while, eating D's lovely goulash stew, spicy and flavorful. I find myself full on very little food, then ravenous a few hours later, wondering why I didn't just have more at mealtime.

Too much sugar at work, mostly resistible, if only for the glut that induces revulsion in me. Only that I was so hungry did I indulge at all, really.

Air reportedly improved, but so foggy. The light on the way home, just at sunset, pinks and oranges on the grey, through the murk, stained rather than pretty. Ruined light, muddied horizon. Supposed to be clearer soon.

The House Inspector poking around the house on Wednesday, and we meet with him once he's done. Says we'll have 100-200 photos of his work. Should be interesting. D had to deal with more requirements, paperwork, today. It's been a rough week on both of us. This evening, Moby staying close, very nearly sat on D's lap, stood on it for a while, then curled between us, getting up, as we got up, came back several times.



Shared my old Thank You joke several times today, half heard by one, encouraged to pray the whole litany again.

Grassy Ass, mercy buckets, and donkey shines.

Proverbs

Busy, busy day, and me the runner. I wrapped blankets to be sterilized, I rolled bias dressings because they were out, I turned over rooms - opening for the scrubs, making beds, shifting equipment. I gave breaks and lunches and cleaned and ran. I scrubbed in at 3, which was a bit of quiet relief in comparison. No wonder moving is not as daunting for me, it's no worse than a long day at work.

We have allowed ourselves a week to do the move. Closing on the 13th, which is a conference day for our surgeons, and we will likely only be running one room anyway, so getting it off was a piece of proverbial cake. Ta (ladi) dah! To move in on the 17th. Looks like we are going to have to have a Groundhog Day party, as I have been joking about doing for years, since there is no way I'm putting up and taking down a christmas tree as I pack up our stuff. Maybe I will put it up for the new place. Maybe. But we should be settled in sufficiently by then, knowing me. February 2 is a Thursday, so it'll have to be the Saturday after. Close enough.

It's kind of an ideal move, only a few stairs, two blocks away, from a small place into a larger one, not just one day. This, by the standards of a move, is going to be more, proverbial cake. It probably won't snow every day that week.

Thumb is much improved. But Dr. A, who I would have preferred to take care of this, but Dr. Tigger is hard to refuse, has told me I should have a hard splint, especially during the move. She was going to write a scrip for me to take up to the hand clinic, but I missed her before she left today. I'll catch her next week, and will follow her directions. Going to continue to baby it for a while, as it heals. Thumbs are best well cared for. Very important, opposable thumbs.

Going to bed early, to sleep, to recuperate. Inspection on Wednesday. Title being checked. Will start the packing process Saturday.

Moby still blissfully unaware, although we've told him. He'll know something is up when the boxes start stacking.

Down

Finally coming down. A very bad high. Awake now for 36 hours, and not yet bedtime, but I think sleep will be possible, possibly unavoidable. Not that I am at all inclined to avoid sleep. My motormouth was obnoxious to me, once started, shutting up was nearly impossible. This is not me, I don't just keep talking and talking and talking. Occasionally I write a bit obsessively, but I can normally control my voice. D is, to my eternal gratitude, both honest and tolerant and supportive.

All the tasks have been accomplished for today. Everything done that can be done. January is going to be quite a month. Moving from a small place into a large place, a few blocks away, over the course of a week, is an ideal situation. This is going to work. Which we always knew, deep down. Not good to admit it too soon, but, yes.

Down, down, down.

Faster!

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! *

We got our official Yes this evening, and some tight deadlines. Gah, and yikes, and huzzah. Will learn more tomorrow, details and commitments. D will start to bring home boxes from work. I'll get some packing tape. Going to be a tight year for cash. But we will have a house.

Exchanging letters with my younger elder brother. He's really trying, and I know the quality of his heart, if not the nature of his personality, after so many years. Writing all going there, careful words, expressive words, real words. Striving for compassion and honesty. It's going to be a long road, I will walk it for now. No destination, only the journey.

Dr. Tigger injected my sore thumb today, corticosteriods, for some inflammation that has persisted. He also did x-rays, the quick ones like we use in the OR. No arthritis, a tight joint space, but nothing extraordinary, just one of those overuse issues. Our core tech guy was right behind me, a kind of staff clinic this afternoon.

He kept apologizing for the needle, but I did nothing more than blink a bit. I'm a tough old broad, and I'm not about to let a little needle bother me. He'd broken scrub while his resident sewed the incision (standard practice) so I did the count with the scrub, and a bit of charting with one hand, as he poked the other. Told him if I could deal with a block in my sinuses so they could stitch up my lip, a little finger pressure was not about to phaze me. He warned me how much it would hurt, especially the next day. And I accepted this, I'd had a hip injected for bursitis when I was about 30. That hurt like mad, alarmingly so, but as that pain ebbed, so did the misery of the bursitis, and it never returned. I was up for thumb pain that would abate. Sorer all afternoon, but not so badly.

Extremely irritated that I have to go in at 0700 for a meeting tomorrow, my day off. Dammit. I'll do up the February staff schedule to make it worth the trip. I'll probably be awake at 0400 again anyway. Might as well get paid for being up too fucking early.

Fortune cookie message this evening, You will be coming into a fortune. Well, when we get the downpayment in one place, certainly. Perhaps the house is our fortune.


And, I can imagine the house. Soon to be our house. Very soon.

!

Unhatched

Went out to count our unhatched chickens. But we did keep reminding each other, "If... ."

A dull, murky Sunday, but with all our ideas of what we would need to do, would like to do, IF we get that house. We, (sigh, can't imagine doing this at any time before in our lives) went to Home Despot, for fun. Fact finding mission. One can only glean so much online, sometimes you just want to see it, touch it, to get a clearer idea of what is available. So, we looked. At motion sensor light switches, and lamps and convection heaters, rugs and rug pads and mixer faucets, dust abatement moppage, plug in flashlights, laundry equipment. Bought nothing, of course. This will be a series of projects for the ages. We rather enjoyed having plans, how to do it all cheaply, efficiently - but definitively. Like solving a puzzle, what needs to be done first, what can we do ourselves, how long will it all take?

Well, obviously, it could just not happen at all. Still, we imagine our trip to Moscow, and sit on our luggage and sigh.

Finally, because of U-tyube, able to share The Canadian Conspiracy with D. "Loren Greene, Green Card... coincidence?" Oh, my.