I started an entry about cat litter almost two weeks ago. I still haven't finished it. (I know you guys are absolutely on fire to hear my opinions about cat litter and litter scoops. Don't worry, they're still coming.)
Work has been a long series of manufactured emergencies. Life has, to some extent, been the same. Lots of hard work. So much cleaning. I'm still living in a landscape of boxes that need to be unpacked.
I'm trying to set myself a routine--I wake up in the morning and take care of one chore that needs to be dealt with, plus feeding the cats before I leave. I go to work and deal with the 3 to 7 incredibly urgent issues that just came up (spoiler: they have not actually just come up, but people have just set their underwear on fire about it and can't find the damn water bucket themselves). I take my lunch break to watch silly youtube videos (thank you, Designing Women, I needed that laugh) or read a book so that I can someday stop renewing my library books and actually return them. I come home and try to make sure I do one thing just for Peter. I also try and do one thing just for me. Then, if I still have any energy and will left, I try to get in one other chore.
I spent last weekend cleaning the old house like a demon, because I want my damn deposit back. The landlord hasn't even seen the place yet and is already making threatening noises about not returning all of the security deposit. Charming man. I long to be shed of him forever.
This weekend... I'd like to visit my parents. There's lots of other stuff to do, too, though. Peter is sad that we didn't make it to Emerald Pointe this summer, and this is the last weekend it's open. I'd kind of like to go, but I also hate crowds. I thought he was going to go with Paul a couple of months back, but apparently they never got it together. I'd like to unpack some boxes, and bring in the lamps and shelves sitting in the carport and set them up. If I can find a place to put my bookshelf, I can empty at least two and half boxes right there.
There's a contra dance on Saturday night, and I know I should go to that. I'm out of shape--I haven't danced more than 4 dances in a night in months, and I've skipped too many dances entirely from being tired and out of sorts. Also, my new ("new"--they were only a year or so old) dance shoes fell apart on me at the Shenandoah Shindig back at the beginning of the year, when I danced right through the stitching holding the soles on, and although I've replaced Peter's dance shoes, I still haven't replaced mine. I've been dancing in my old jazz shoes, which are mostly held together with glue and hope at this point in their extremely long life, and which really don't have any padding. (When I say long life, I mean it, by the way--I think my mother bought them for me when I was in 8th grade. Might have been 9th. They were my contra dance shoes for the many, many dances over three years until I got tired of gluing the suede back onto them.) Anyway, my point is that there have been plenty of reasons for not dancing... but I should still get back into the swing of it.
I guess that's the news for now. We trudge on. I adult. I need more joy.
This entry was originally posted at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/745899.html. Please comment there using OpenID. You can read
comments on this entry at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/745899.html#comments.