Vicious Circles...
Why is it that life has to be so damn complicated? I want to sort the house out and get junk out of the way, some to wherever will take it, some to whomever will buy it and some to the garage that we will be renting. Here's the problem:
To sort the garage out, we need the car empty. To empty the car, I need space to put the junk out the car. To get space to put the junk out the car, I need to get some of the junk into the garage. To get the junk into the garage, we need the car to empty the current junk out of the garage. To empty the garage, we need the car empty... I also need the car empty to get some of the junk in the house to the tip, so there's enough space to put the junk from the car...
I looked into the spare room today (and yesterday) and I have no clue where to start. It's become one of those rooms that you open the door, throw stuff in and shut the door quick again before it all avalanches out again. I don't know exactly when it became that bad, but it is. I have no idea where to start, but at some point I must. There's a few bits and pieces in there that I know can go straight in the charity shop pile (the cat bed that we bought that the three cats just turned their noses up at for instance) but I honestly have no clue what is in there for the most part. It will be a voyage of discovery, although I must remember to wear a safety line and possibly even take a Sherpa with me.
Himself is less than impressed that I want to start gutting the house. He's even less impressed with the thought that I will be getting a Grandfather clock at the end of this month, courtesy of my parents. We apparently haven't got the room for one. If we sorted the junk out, threw a load of rubbish in the bin, parcelled off loads of bits to friends and charity shops, sold some of the more valuable items that we don't want off and generally tidied, rearranged minimally and perhaps got a shed, things might be easier. I even just worked out that if I moved my material crates from the dining room (into the junk room once it's more organised) the clock can happily slot into the vacated space.
I'm rapidly losing the will to do anything though, and that's a bad sign. I have to have this place a bit more organised and functioning as a house rather than a junk repository before my parents get here in about four weeks. I also want to get the junk room turned into my new work room for christening gowns and get on with some of them, because I'm not really any further on than I was when my parents were here last. I promised I was going to do something positive about my business when we got back from Beltring, and that hasn't happened yet. I've been trying to get a job as well (still not heard back from Tuesday's interview) just to tide me over with some money, to keep the finances rolling, because I need to have some money behind me to get into business properly. I have an application form waiting to get filled in downstairs, although it's a full-time job, and I'm not sure I want something full-time again, and another one on it's way for a part time post.
I now have a headache and I'm too hot. Himself is sleeping in this room because apparently the bedroom is too cold. I sleep with the window wide open and just a sheet over me, and still I'm too hot. We had an argument last night because I was planning things, sorting things out in my head before starting on the real mess, and unfortunately himself has a nasty habit of thinking everything I suggest has to be done instantaneously. He can't seem to think of anything more than a couple of days in advance, and as soon as I mention doing anything, he comes up with a load of reasons why he can't do it right now. Too hot, too cold, too tired, too busy... you name it, he's too something. So I can't discuss the changes with him, can't go over the options of what I would like to do, and end up doing it anyway, then get complained at because himself wasn't consulted on the latest moves... So I try to consult with him, and he gets angry because he's too something, so I go ahead on my own, so he gets annoyed because I didn't consult him...
Ho hum... I think it might be bedtime... I might feel less frustrated in the morning, but I wouldn't hold my breath for it if I were you...
To sort the garage out, we need the car empty. To empty the car, I need space to put the junk out the car. To get space to put the junk out the car, I need to get some of the junk into the garage. To get the junk into the garage, we need the car to empty the current junk out of the garage. To empty the garage, we need the car empty... I also need the car empty to get some of the junk in the house to the tip, so there's enough space to put the junk from the car...
I looked into the spare room today (and yesterday) and I have no clue where to start. It's become one of those rooms that you open the door, throw stuff in and shut the door quick again before it all avalanches out again. I don't know exactly when it became that bad, but it is. I have no idea where to start, but at some point I must. There's a few bits and pieces in there that I know can go straight in the charity shop pile (the cat bed that we bought that the three cats just turned their noses up at for instance) but I honestly have no clue what is in there for the most part. It will be a voyage of discovery, although I must remember to wear a safety line and possibly even take a Sherpa with me.
Himself is less than impressed that I want to start gutting the house. He's even less impressed with the thought that I will be getting a Grandfather clock at the end of this month, courtesy of my parents. We apparently haven't got the room for one. If we sorted the junk out, threw a load of rubbish in the bin, parcelled off loads of bits to friends and charity shops, sold some of the more valuable items that we don't want off and generally tidied, rearranged minimally and perhaps got a shed, things might be easier. I even just worked out that if I moved my material crates from the dining room (into the junk room once it's more organised) the clock can happily slot into the vacated space.
I'm rapidly losing the will to do anything though, and that's a bad sign. I have to have this place a bit more organised and functioning as a house rather than a junk repository before my parents get here in about four weeks. I also want to get the junk room turned into my new work room for christening gowns and get on with some of them, because I'm not really any further on than I was when my parents were here last. I promised I was going to do something positive about my business when we got back from Beltring, and that hasn't happened yet. I've been trying to get a job as well (still not heard back from Tuesday's interview) just to tide me over with some money, to keep the finances rolling, because I need to have some money behind me to get into business properly. I have an application form waiting to get filled in downstairs, although it's a full-time job, and I'm not sure I want something full-time again, and another one on it's way for a part time post.
I now have a headache and I'm too hot. Himself is sleeping in this room because apparently the bedroom is too cold. I sleep with the window wide open and just a sheet over me, and still I'm too hot. We had an argument last night because I was planning things, sorting things out in my head before starting on the real mess, and unfortunately himself has a nasty habit of thinking everything I suggest has to be done instantaneously. He can't seem to think of anything more than a couple of days in advance, and as soon as I mention doing anything, he comes up with a load of reasons why he can't do it right now. Too hot, too cold, too tired, too busy... you name it, he's too something. So I can't discuss the changes with him, can't go over the options of what I would like to do, and end up doing it anyway, then get complained at because himself wasn't consulted on the latest moves... So I try to consult with him, and he gets angry because he's too something, so I go ahead on my own, so he gets annoyed because I didn't consult him...
Ho hum... I think it might be bedtime... I might feel less frustrated in the morning, but I wouldn't hold my breath for it if I were you...
posted by Me at 12:26 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home