changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003

the birthing of a home.

brian is over there in my house right now. he's poking around and getting really confused about where i have previously told him furniture would be placed as if he has not spent tens of hours contemplating furniture placement. he doesn't like that the door will only open about 100 degrees before hitting a cabinet as if our front door now opens more than one hundred degrees before hitting a wall. he just wants it to swing free and clear until it bangs into that sliding glass door that's been converted into our entry way window. he wants to ditch our dining set because of the pine floors and bright sunlight. he wants me to accept an imaginary dare to spend a night in the shed for $5,000. he likes the buffet where it is, but doesn't think it looks good there. you see what i'm dealing with? he likes that the pachinko has been liberated from the back of the coat closet. another round of glory for the pachinko.

we'll get there. it will hurt, but we'll get there.

the cats are going to have a field day peeing on oliver's bed, mark my words, because he doesn't currently own a bedroom door. did i tell you that? he's in the one car garage-dining room-bedroom. i found a cat sitting outside his window next to a swarm of some kind of stinging flying things and i wondered if the new musty smell i'm smelling in there is stray cats peeing by the window. but those things are painted shut, so how could smells come in? it smells like old ladies in there. in the mothball way and not the rose perfume way.

oliver keeps sneaking into the shed and i'm waiting for him to stumble on to a rusty nail or broken piece of glass, both of which can be found here and there. or for all that lumber that's hanging precariously from the ceiling to come crashing down atop him. i've also caught him trying to climb the chain link, trying to pull up the wood from the raised beds, removing two thirds of the bricks forming a border around the crepe myrtle, misalinging the gutter, and upending this wrought iron bird feeder that my grandmother sent up with my father. what happened to my idyllic daydreams of the magical mommy-calming powers of land ownership?

i have little bruises running up my arms. my body is growing cranky. i'm making 3-4 trips in the mighty corolla every day to drop off small batches and rearrange boxes filled with art history and self-help books. you figure out who's artsy and who's angsty.

we're taking a day off to drive to killeen tomorrow morning to thanksgiving with brian's mother and stepfather and brother's family and ben. grandma was on her way up here monday to attend violet's grandparents' day on tuesday and violet got up hours early monday morning, thanks to a cold, and passed out on the way home from school and skipped lunch in order to sleep and let mucous drain straight into her stomach and after two hours of that, she woke up crying, i took her to pee, and then she drooled on herself and i spun her to the toilet and great gobs of bright yellow were ejected, despite her having had ants on a log for her school snack. she was parked on a pallet in front of max & ruby while brian left just in time to go pick up oliver and redirect his mother, who claims she was stuck in tragic traffic from 10:30am until 5:30pm, but brian and i have decided it was 2:30pm until 5:30pm, but still. you know.

oh well. brian is back. we're watching the television on the floor. we're not on the floor. just the television. we sent our tv furniture out the back door tonight on the back of craigslist and a small black man brian claimed sounded like a large redneck on the phone. i'm curious to see who gets their legs crushed on the stairs friday night while trying to take a five column expedit bookshelf down the wobbly stairs.

i always think i can't get myself to write. but then i start and it's like you just can't get me to shut up. i could go on for years. like, for the years before now which i have neglected. but i need to make another fruitless attempt to order blinds before the sunlight bleaches half of everything i own. too bad i ain't going to proofread this thing.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.