Stick a fork in me

Because I am done.

The boss has opened a second location. It is only open on weekends, but it means that I’m stuck with Saturdays & Sundays for the foreseeable future. I’m ok with it, because fuck knows I need the hours. Credit card debt from building this house is a thing. The problem here is my chronic illnesses, chronic pain, and the resulting fatigue. I’m not quite sure how I made it to my house last night; I can only assume it’s because my truck knows the way home.

I was so exhausted when I got home that I was barely able to poke food into my wordhole. I only showered because I felt sticky and gritty and greasy and gross. I didn’t really pay attention to anything around me once I reached my little haven.

This morning, I feel like hammered shit. As I started trying to get ready for my day, I started noticing things. Things like:

  • The dirty fucking t-shirt stuffed under some throw pillows on the couch
  • Sunshine’s fucking shoes on the bathroom floor
  • Sunshine’s goddamned slippers in the middle of the bedroom floor
  • The overflowing trash can that nobody could be bothered to empty all fucking weekend
  • The dishwasher that somebody didn’t fucking unload after he ran a cycle
  • The damned fridge filled with leftovers that need to be tossed
  • The stove is dirty as fuck
  • The nasty-ass floors haven’t been swept, much less mopped
  • Dirty-ass laundry is piled up like whoa

I could go on, but I think you yet the point. There will be a come-to-Jesus meeting in this house, and soon.

Seriously, Sunshine? When you went through a summer feeling like hammered shit because of some medical issues and I didn’t complain about having to take on more homesteading tasks than usual, did it not occur to you that the roles might be reversed one day thanks to my chronic conditions? I have 2 days before I have to go pull a long, shitty day working outside on the 4th, and those 2 days are filled with doctor’s appointments, and you couldn’t unfuck this mess you made? Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit.

I’d leave the shit exactly the way I found it, except for the fact that I am my mother’s child and knowing that my house is in such a gross state makes me fucking twitchy.

Final note: even in healthy relationships, things aren’t perfect. There are bumps in the road. I’m just grateful I have my sponsor to help me figure out how to get Sunshine to come to jesus.


The view from up here

Recently, Mr B rented a scissor lift thingamajig. It was needed for the quonset hut that was being constructed. Mr B, being the overgrown toddler that he often is, had to play vroom-vroom with this piece of equipment (and really, who can blame him?).

Mollie and I hitched a ride, and he drove us around and raised and lowered us until my inner ear decided to revolt.

I did manage to get some pretty cool aerial shots of this junkyard intentional community.

Monthly preview update

I’ve managed to both feel disgustingly productive AND get some rest this week. I’ve tackled multiple projects from the comfort of my corner of the couch.

  • I’ve made two hats out of the secret Santa yarn, although I still haven’t made one for myself.
  • The Christmas decorations are packed away and I’ve bought next year’s wrapping paper. After Christmas clearance is the best time to buy Christmas cards, wrapping paper, ornaments, and etcetera so I did just that. 😁
  • I have done my 1st workout with my tai-chi DVD. It was brief, because I realized I was going to have to write programs in my brain and create muscle memory in order to not get frustrated that I was struggling to actually do the forms
  • Season 2 of “Travelers” has been binge watched, as has the rest of the available seasons of “Fear the Walking Dead”

I’ve also managed to deal with a backlog of things on my “want to do” list.

  • I canned some more hot sauce using the recipe The Ecofeminist pointed me to
  • I got caught up on laundry. For now, at least, since I’m sure Sunshine will be coming home thus weekend with a literal metric fucktonne of dirty work clothes that have to be washed and dried right fucking now because they’ll be going back out of town with him Sunday evening.
  • I cleaned out my truck somewhat, but have yet to work up the nerve to go dig that rotty cantaloupe out of the bed. I’m very afraid of it.
  • I’ve culled a few garments I know I won’t wear, and moved a few more to my holding zone to see if I miss them or can donate them.
  • I also bought new (to me) pants.
  • I gathered hickory nuts from the backyard. It’s free food, and nuts are good for the health goals my doctor has encouraged me to strive for.
  • I started clearing out my future kitchen. The guy who’s building our custom cabinets is scheduled to come this weekend, so I have to make room to move appliances into place. I also had to clear the floor so we could map out the footprint and take measurements and all that shit.
  • We made a list of things for Rude Ass to do and got him moving forward on those projects. We even made a plan to get it warm in the house, since Rude Ass said it can’t be cold in there for the application of the top coat for my reclaimed wood walls.
  • I obtained a pair of giant square pillows to stuff inside the pillow covers I’ve asked Tia to make for me. I got a killer deal on them at this little local place Mr B turned me on to

All in all, it’s been a more productive month than I expected, and we’re not even halfway through yet.

I’ve surprised myself at my ability to continue making decisions about…. Well, everything. Without running into decision fatigue. Hopefully, that continues throughout this weekend and my consult with the cabinet guy. Thank heaven, the cabinet guy is also a dear friend. He won’t get frustrated with me if I do stall out mid-decision, and he is someone I trust enough to listen to when I get indecisive.

Now, I’m off to get dressed and get some shit accomplished before I have to work tomorrow. Hope you wonderful people have a beautiful day!

The insanity ends now…

…until next weekend, when I do the same shit all over again expecting different results.

This is what happens to my home on weekends, because I work weekends and don’t have time to adult or house.

Normally,  I’m one of those “a place for everything and everything in its place” kind of girl. Normally I limit the amount of stuff that comes into my home; if I get new shoes/pants/whatever, I get rid of an old one. One in, one out.

With the house starting to actually look like a house or something,  I’ve been relaxing that “one in one out” rule somewhat.

Side note: Let’s get honest. I’ve just thrown that fucking rule right out the window.

I’ve been keeping things, because I’m about to have space for things. I can have more than 9 pairs of shoes.

Side note: Let’s get honest. I don’t think I’ve ever owned only 9 pairs of shoes.

Weekends, I’m so tired when I get home that I just stuff shit wherever it will fit. Which means that Mondays are spent unfucking my habitat.

Now, I’m off to do some unfucking. Wish me luck!

Overachiever much?

Actually,  no. I don’t. 

Yesterday was an anomaly.  After I posted all the things on my to-do list  and that what I was contemplating was a closet purge… Well, I made a decision to tackle the to-do list and my rewards for a morning of productivity would be the closet purge.

I never made it to the closet purge.

I did accomplish a lot, though.

I got the jam made and the pears are gone (except for the 6 remaining pears that I split between our house and Mr B’s house). I forgot to take any pictures of the disastrous tetris game my house became while I was canning, and I also forgot to take pictures of my little rows of cinnamon pear jam. That shit was yummy, though. Mr B and I cleaned the pot with spoons and our fingers.

Side note: this time, I used the pectin designed for sugar-free jams and it worked like a freaking charm. Now I need to get the boss to get me some cantaloupes so I can make some vanilla cantaloupe jam for the EcoFeminist (and anybody else that wants some needs to let me know so I know how much crap to buy to make enough for everyone).

After the marathon jam session with the pears, I actually got some of the coffee cup sleeves made for the coffee shop next to my work.

It’s nowhere near enough to meet demand, but it should hold her over til I can bring more on Sunday when I work again.

I also managed to get the compost bucket emptied onto the heap (with a bit of help from Sunshine), I got the bottled water somewhat dealt with (some bagged up to go to work and some in the fridge for Sunshine.  I put the books in the tube with the remaining bottles of water, and Mr B took the autumn harvest decorations outside until I can get them cracked open to harvest the seeds. 

I also received two shipments; and I got the items put away and the packaging got disposed of. One package was new sneakers, the other was the pendant lights for the bedroom of our little house. Sunshine says we’ll go get our shower plumbing fixtures this weekend. We’re finally getting into the fun parts of house building! 

Yesterday was frenetic and left me wiped out. Someone send chocolate,  please?

Notes from the road: day 1

I didn’t make it 40 miles from the house before I had to stop for gas in the glamorous town of Paris TX.

Aren’t you impressed with all that glitz?

While I was paying for gas, I couldn’t resist the breakfast of champions.

That’s right. Metallica + Donut Sticks = the breakfast of champions. 

I passed through the megalopolis of Shreveport,  which is always so depressing. 

It was over fast.

Just east of Vicksburg,  I20 passes through a slightly primeval looking bit of forest.

It was over fast, too.

Then I found myself in the middle of the Talladega forest.

The roads were dry at that point, so it was over fast, too.

The Atlanta skyline and traffic always make my heart sing.

That wasn’t sarcasm. I may hate driving, but I come alive in Atlanta traffic.

Side note: hell, if I didn’t, I’d get killed dead as hell for sure. I learned to really drive in Atlanta traffic.

Entirely too many hours, cheetos, Donut Sticks,  & Starbucks doubles hots later, I’m at mom’s. Calling a cinnabon dinner. Because that’s how I adult.