I awoke this morning to a hungry puppa. A four foot stompy-stomp Bean, asking for her breakfast... But we aren't supposed to give it to her. Today is Jilly's surgery. Her canine vaginal reconstruction, butt who am I to judge? I am looking out my window at the typical hustle and bustle of a Tuesday morning, don't they know my fur-baby is going under the knife? How could they act so callously? Going about their business as if it's no biggie? It's Jilly for crying out loud. The Cutest, Sweetest and most special Tinker in the whole wide world. Hubby and I had to drop her off for her procedure at 8am... but 8am when you're anxious is rough! It turns into 7am, which really means more like 6am and I am up, tossing and turning. Trying to snuggle the beegeebus out of this little fur-nace before I have to send her away and she comes back stiff, sore and in-dog-icated (a word I just made up meaning a dog doped out of their gourd). I am nervous.
Cue the nervous burps. A symptom Hubby recognizes immediately- as they were very present throughout the wedding planning. And the snapping, because I can control that emotion- I realize I get from my Papa. Because for some reason being in control makes me feel less scared. So I snap and bark and whine and complain- deferring all those really scared little emotions for mean and selfish overreactions. Walking in silence both of us nervous, this family of 3 (Lucy stayed home) open the vet door and are greeted by a smiling and competent face, which still doesn't make me feel better and the smell of ammonia and sick animals triggers the tears, so I reach down and touch Jilly's satin ears and she yawn squeaks- her version of a nervous burp. So I kiss her and tell her to be brave. Tell her she's the bestest Tinkeroo, and I love her. Then Hubby takes my hand and we bravely walk out of the clinic. And I cry in the Starbucks- keeping my sunglasses on of course, so no one is the wiser- ya right, except for the Irish keening sound I can't seem to control.
I mean, really, it's life, right? Sometimes it's good and easy and fun and sometimes it's surgery and falling down and paper cuts. Hubby says it's practise. Oh geez, I don't want to practise this stuff...I don't just want it to happen either... But honestly this is where my problem lies- How do you tell your favourite fur-baby (no offense Lucy*insert hot under the collar gesture) that you love her and that everything is fine and that she will be okay, it's going to be weird and painful for a while but hopefully it will be fine...Can you speak Peagle? (That's Jilly's pretentious mixed breed name*insert gag me gesture) I hope she knows that. And why would I think she wouldn't know? Maybe that's the point... If we live our lives and love hard everyday- when the paper cut stuff happens, we aren't scared that people or puppas don't know you love them. So give someone a hug or call your favourite person to remind them: It's only life and you're happy you've got'em:) As for Jilly, I think she knows.
My day is separated into capsules of time; 20 mins to shower, 15 mins to do my make up, 40 mins to choose what to wear. Then there is the never ending list of things that no matter how often you do or for how long, you have to keep doing over and over and over. For example....Laundry. If life had a top ten list of things that don't stop until you do (meaning when you croak), it might look like this.
1. Making the bed- every time you get out of it, it needs to be made again. And washed- folded, flipped, and so on.
2. Sweeping/Mopping/Swiffering- Just cleaning the damn floor, cause you're always walking on it, making it dirty again, finding tumble weeds of fur that have been driven into corners by the flow of traffic and spills from moving a hot pot too quickly into the sink
3. Walking the dog/cleaning the kitty litter/pooh-duty- HA I said duty (oh wait, that joke doesn't work when you're reading it *insert sigh & shrug)
4.Dishes- including but not limited to all the pots and pans you cooked with and the plates and silverware you ate off of. And would you just wash that glass that's been beside the bed for the last 2 days? It has dust floating in it.
5. Groceries- if you want something to make your dishes dirty you need to go out and get groceries, carry them home, cut or chop, clean and store. Make room in the fridge, cupboards and on shelves, don't forget that organizing can help your digestive system!
6. Bills, taxes, receipts and just general bookkeeping and life management. If you want to know how you're doing life-wise, this is a good place to start and keep up with, cause people will hound you for $17. 86 (FED EX, I'm talking to you)
7. The Bathroom- clean, sanitize, polish and scrub. This room is always getting used by bums and naked bodies. It's important to clean it often and well.
8. Laundry- Clothes, towels, sheets and whatever else needs to be de-grossed, de-haired or just freshened up. A light, fresh, clean scent creates an air of country in the city.
9. Swiffer- Before I even get to number 10 it's time to Swiffer again, I mean Jilly and Lucy are eager for a little sister I guess. A baby Dat or Cog...I haven't decided, unless I just start knitting a fur sweater, which would be ecologically responsible, but really creepy.
10. Myself- I need showers and shaves and scrubs and de-fur-ing and plucking and tweezing and clipping and shaping and stretching and warming ad nauseam, though I do consider myself a pretty clean person. (Ironic emphasis on Pretty*wink)
Life is an ongoing holding pattern of mundane activities, but the one thing that isn't mundane is life....Wha? That sounds very Zen of me. I am always surprised to find myself happy with the little things, but I would be happiest if I didn't have to keep SWIFFERING!
It has been a week since the move. A glorious, spacious, tiring and amazing week. This week was filled with the unrecognized pang of separation anxiety. In my 5 years of being with Hubby, I have never been more than a room away from him. Now, when I am talking to him from the Bedroom (oh, just listen to that newly added word to my vocabulary) he doesn't hear me. Or at least says he doesn't. Our new place rocks for the following reasons:
1. A couch- this 6.5 foot raft floating in our living room has been slept and snuggled on by all 4 members of this family without squabbling. We now have our favourite seats, another new experience. Also this couch actually works, when sitting on it you want to spill your guts (therapy style) which is perfect for blogging.
2. Closet(s)- There is a giant closet in our Bedroom (there's that word again:)) and in the hall a 2nd closet, wait, condos can have more than one closet? Yes! yes they can. And I have 2. Finally the segration of indoor and outdoor clothes, Mr. Rogers would be proud.
3. The epic hallway. I mean, right now it's jammed with things that need to go down to the storage unit, but it's still there a long hallway that muffles the sound of our washer and dryer.
4. Washer and dryer... Thank Rod. Is there more I can say? A washer with enough capacity to hold 2 hoodies, 2 pairs of jeans, 3 pairs of socks and my overflowing gratitude. Phew, what was 6 loads of 3 hours is now 1 load of 20 mins!!! I am getting my life back. Sweet, sweet Freedom. The dryer is quiet and has the sucking power of a tropical storm, dehairing my clothes and restoring a blanket to the grey it started as, instead of the puppy colour it had become.
5. New wedding gifts: last year hubby and I got married, but since we were in such a teeny tiny space, none of our gifts would fit. And I was not going to let those new, shiny presents touch the disaster we came from. But now... oh now, my dishes match and stack easily, my pans don't shed teflon into dinner and I don't make a mess bigger by using a dish towel. It's amazer-beams. Having nice things actually makes you nicer to them. This is the first time I've ever felt that. And I am so grateful.
6. Anti-slam cupboards and drawers. For 2 clutzy folks. That's self explanatory.
7. Picking new places for things to go. I have been living away from home for almost 11 years *insert age revelation cringe, but this is the first time I felt like I was building a home. It's a strange feeling to know that I get to pick how this place looks and feels, and what people see and what's hidden. I can't believe how fun this game is.
8. My new dance yourself skinny dance floor- with surround sound, refreshment bar and no noise complaints, yet. Having more than a bedroom means I can put my music on and dance, wait, not dance- DANCE!!!! We are 3 months into this year and the 2012 Dance-yourself-Skinny mix is coming along nicely. You will be alerted when that album drops.
9. My puppa barked here for the first time. Doesn't sound like a big thing or even a good thing and though it scared me and hubby, it is great. That means that my co-dependent puppa-roo is starting to feel like this is a home she needs to protect. Which means that even though she was scared and confused, she is settling in.
10. Miss Lucy has perched herself peacefully on everything at least once. She is confident to roam around without Jilly the beast chasing her back into the bathtub. Personalities have space to grow here and she's stretched out in every sun spot or curled up in your seat, because it's still warm.
11, 12, 13 & 14. This is my home. It didn't take long. That's my favourite thing. People can feel it when they walk in, it smells like home, it has all the conveniences of home. It welcomes you, because we're so happy. It has already become a favourite gathering place for friends. A home.
As for my worries about the things I'd miss, my list of new things I love is way bigger. I can still see the CN tower every walk with Jilly, I brew my own Douche bag drink 5 out of 7 days a week. But now there is a jumping pad, fountain and astroturf playground for grown ups and then there is the fun and though it's not cool to call it fabulous, it is fabulous Queen street atmosphere. I am happy here. And every married man knows, happy wife, happy life- at least that's what they say. I like to think happy life-happy life, but I guess that's not as snappy:)
We moved Saturday, I had the flu of course. I haven't been sick all year, but my immune system chooses now to go on vacation. So I am not in the best shape to begin with, and the worst shape to be moving. Thank Rod, I am only moving a teeny tiny one room condo. We'll not so much moving, as pointing my moving staff where to go. With 2 emergency stops and a 20 min power pass out between loading shifts I managed to hold my shit together- literally. But my new home has welcomed me.
In my former neighbourhood wearing my lulus on a Sunday dog walk was totally acceptable, especially after a drinking holiday like St. Paddy's, but not here. I am not sure if Fashion week is still on, but my new hood is ready for a Grid style on the street article anytime. That puts a lot of peer pressure on a poor, sick and newly moved tenant, who’s having trouble finding all her clothes. This area is: Thin and trendy only. Which also means I have to bitch slap the gym. The Jones' are way ahead, and though I am not competitive, I don't like to lose.
As for Kitty/Puppy... well, they may need a serious whispering. These poor beasts have only known life cooped up with Hubby and I in one room. OH the stress of walls, doors and limited visibility. Can you imagine having to guess what your mother was doing one room over? I mean, she could be playing with your toys or eating your food, the possibilities are endless and you have to know, heaven forbid you sleep your typical 20 hours a day while they could be chowing down on steak (Jilly forgets we don't eat meat), dropping morsels onto the floor to be eaten by some other animal that could be in here... There's just too much room for error. *insert dramatic gasp So, as I move from room to room I have an unmatched pair of furry anklets, with tiny clicking nails following me, very helpful while carrying boxes. As I blog now, which might be the longest I've been stationary, I am pinned by a snoring Puppa and a happily purring Lucy who expects me to type on-handed while stroking her. I am happy that they are spending more time together in this bigger space than they did in my teeny King. Like a pair of feuding sisters binding together against adversity.
With that I am off touting my Flu-thin body in my haute couture prêt-à-porter garment to catwalk my Doggie. I'll show these Jones' who's keeping up. Though these stilettos might get mud covered, but that's a blog for another day.
As you may have gathered I am moving tomorrow. The teeny, tiny memorabilia jammed shoebox I live in right now has been my home for the last 4 years. WHA? Four years spent in what was supposed to be a 6 month solution- oh how we veered off plan. And those of you who've seen this inner-child's cave have expressed that you wouldn't have been able to deal with living here- with your significant other plus dog plus cat+/- fish. So I just wanted to say nah-nah-nah-nah-nah I am better than you are:P Okay so maybe not better, but perhaps more tolerant, kind, patient, self-secure and well, better I guess. Whoa, I got away for a minute there. Can I say, I am quite elated that I managed not to shank, shiv or regular stab someone (mainly my loving Hubby). Being an "erratic personality" as I am the following list would have been just cause:
1. The washing machine that fits 3 pairs of undies, 2 pairs of socks and 1/2 cup of disappointment. It takes 3 hours to run a cycle of laundry and everything comes out ready for my american girl doll to wear.
2. One room- one room... one not very big room
3. Everything centres around the bed, and it's gotta be uncomfortable for people who visit us... I mean it's our bed. Hey everybody, come over and sit on our marital bed, that's your only option. Comfy yet?*insert creepy smile
4. One closet to rule them all- within this tiny condo closet all things must be stored- EVERYTHING: Winter coats, rain boots, kitty litter, anything that doesn't fit under the bathroom sink, extra dog poop bags, formal wear, paper towels, nautical ships wrecks, everything. Oh and did I mention half of that closet is a stacked washer/dryer? Yeah for 4 years two people used 1/2 of a closet.
5. The fire detector which is dangling precariously from our ceiling. One day 2 years ago it just let go, and now hangs there uselessly, it's given up, oh except if we're using the stove or the oven or making toast- then that lazy SOB screams bloody murder, and for what? the steam of an open oven door- All hands on deck- what a dick, you hear that fire detector, you're a dick.
6. The under the sink garbage that is too big and you have to open the right one before you can open the actual garbage and then close them in reverse order. Which doesn't sound like a big problem- except if you have a split bag of something leaking all over the GD place.
7. Eating dinner in my bedroom which is also my kitchen. We have a table straddling our bed which is our diningroom table, but it's really just a wood slab over our bed. Do you know how hard it is to eat every meal with your legs crossed? C'mon!
8. One room, did I already say that, well I really mean it. It's the worst, Micro-loft my ass.
With this scathing list of 8 items, it sounds all bad, but I will miss my rooftop patio with BBQs and Muskoka chairs and the CN Tower view, the park/dog toilet being next door, the quick walk to the Lakeshore, the Ossington bus, waiting at a King streetcar stop, being so close to my husband, cat and dog all the time and my fav Starbucks baristas who've finally mastered my customize Douche bag drink. Though what I will miss most is bitchin' about how much of a struggle it is living in this space:) But Pain+Time=Funny too bad it wasn't actually that painful.
Oops, I did it again. After the gratifying experience I had taking all my old stained raggedy "painting clothes" and donating them to a good cause... I now have to paint my new apartment. Les Sighs and a big Boo-urns. It seems like I would have been better holding off on the uber-rewarding pre-spring cleaning by 2 weeks, as now I have to use my slightly better clothes and be careful, which is another thing I am not very good at. Double sigh. On the upside I get to move into a bigger, brighter and BETTER space. For those of you not in the know, I have been inhabiting a teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy- green one room 420 sq ft bachelor pad with my non-bachelor Husband, our stubborn Peagle- Jilly a 3/4 Beagle & 1/4 Pug, Lucy-our Kitten Giantess and ReAction Jackson the former heavy weight fighting fish champion of the world, who recently passed away- sad though he was 4 years old! Way to go Jacks. RIPee as we were forced to flush him, because the condo board wouldn't let us start a Pet Cemetery, as apparently they're cursed or whatever... Oh yeah, painting clothes. I am super psyched about moving into a space that has more than one closet and a door between the bedroom and television/game console. I will finally be able to sleep soundly. Let the Packing begin! It's a 2 week countdown... I will keep on posting. Here we go!!
|
RSS Feed