My mother used to like to say Pobody’s Nerfect for Nobody’s Perfect. That came to mind today when I saw my horoscope (via my Yahoo mailing) which read, “It’s a good time to write down your feelings or experiences in some way — in a letter to a friend, a blog entry or even a love note. Your creative energy is prefect for communicating clearly.”
Did you catch that? Instead of “perfect”, it’s written as “prefect”. If my creative energy is prefect for communicating clearly, I would say I got it. Prefect (using the infoplease definition) is basically a person appointed to any of various positions of command, authority, or superintendence, or synonymous with a prefect is an administrator or executive. Interesting misspelling today. I would rather not be “in charge” though, thank you. I generally see little things like that, and sometimes it means something more than just a misspelling, though sometimes a few of my own grammatical errors slide through when I can’t focus through the bifocals. It happens. bOy’sNod PrEfecT.
It was a gorgeous day today. I decided to see if I could clean up a little outside, now that we have nuisance status. The inspector mentioned trash, some limbs, and building materials. Well, the trash is all in containers, except for some recyclables which sit next to the trash can, and the only “limbs” in the yard are actual pieces of driftwood that I have dragged up from the river. I call them art, not limbs. I think more than anything they don’t like the buckets of lath sitting in view, and some other building materials that have no place to go, duh, they can’t go on the building at the moment. I have a pile of bricks and cedar chingles sitting on the porch to keep them dry. Yes, there is a blue tarp covering half the house too, but…nothing will happen there too soon, either. There are other building materials lying about, but I cannot move them. I did move the buckets of lath from one side to the other side under the porch though, for my own convenience more than anything.
The buckets were blocking the last pile of wood under the porch, which is mainly some scrap signage and construction salvage, some 2 by 4’s and such. We use whatever we can get. It has to last until the weather breaks. We heat with wood, which means otherwise electric space heaters are the only other option, which is way too expensive with no income. In order to use the woodstove, I have to go outside to the basement to load it, since there is no indoor access to the basement, and since I cannot go outside after dark, due to vestibular problems, we pretty much have to be happy with whatever temperature we can get out of it for the night by about 6:30. The beau is stuck in bed for another month, so no one will be chopping wood. I can’t imagine what would happen if I tired to chop wood while dizzy. Oh boy.
Generally, in the morning, the bedroom is about 40 degrees, up to the knees. Bearable…it would be good if I could hibernate though it. There is no insulation in this old house..which was built in 1882. So the roof leaks, making the kitchen a swamp land every time it rains, and we have leaky non-operational windows, but it is kinda’ cool to look through the wavy glass. When the inspector, who sent the nuisance notice, asked how long we would be working on the building I almost said some choice words, but just said nothing can be done on it for at least a couple of months. He said he would check back then. Yeah, this is some project. Even if I had about $125,000, it would take years to do something with this place. It really is falling down. Sometimes it is hard to imagine I live here, but I do, and I try to make the best of what I have.
I did have a bag sitting on the parking pad, a bunch of sticker bushes that I pulled from a neighbors sidewalk area. Every time my neighbor (who is 81) and I would walk to church (twice on Sunday) the stickers would grab at our skirts/dresses, so one day I took a shovel and bag up the street, knocked on the door and told the neighbor I was removing the scrub in front of his fence. He said he had been so busy he had not had time to do any yardwork. I didn’t mind. It was either that or walk in the street, and since no one goes the speed limit here, no thanks.
Any hoots, I tidied the parking area up too, as those who can’t use their own trash can are prone to throw things in the yard here, and left a couple of cans and bottles. Sometimes I feel like putting up a bull’s eye target over a trash can to let them try to put it in there rather than just throwing it anywhere in the yard. It IS February, so I am not prepared to clear off the dead leaves, etc., yet. I do try, but this place was a full-blown disaster before I got here, and having had an illness for 14 months has not made it any easier to get things done. Now with the beau unable to work, things will have to wait a little longer.
While I was busy putting laundry on the line, taking advantage of the solar dryer, the dog was busy finding the most foul pile of doody to roll in. I swear it was human excrement, it was so bad. No dog could be that bad. It took quite a bit of scrubbing to get it off of him. Every time I turned around to get another bucket of soapy water, he ran off. Grrr. He had to roll in the living room too. Just what I needed today. Oh boy, I got to wash a slipcover too, and found out that one cannot stuff a 4 by 6 rug into a washer and expect water or soap to touch most of it. Tomorrow is another day, so I can try to wash the rug as it hangs on the line I suppose. At least I still have a washer and the electric to run it for now.
Friday night and I have had it for the day. I know I overdid it outside, the back is saying, lie down, time to relax, lie down NOW! So I will.