Tag Archives: tiny apartment

Crazy is as Crazie Does

Good health gone bad

Good health gone bad

This is how I started my day – with liquified spinach exploding from my blender and spraying all over my kitchen walls.

Even though I’m tempted (by the turmoil in my life) to eat cases of Snickers bars, I’ve made a commitment to stick with healthy eating which means I start the day choking down enjoying a protein shake.

My life has been topsy-turvey pretty much since… well, since January, when we put our house on the market and sold it the same day. I know, I know. That should be a good thing. And, really, it is. But, along with the good, comes all the bad.  Sorting years of crap, selling years of crap and packing up the rest of our crap.

Then we spent six months in a tiny apartment that had some kind of weird Karma. I’m not kidding. My big, lazy dog, Lola, would be snoring away on the living room rug, then suddenly jump up with a yelp, and run away to hide in the bathroom with her tail between her legs. I kind of new-agey, so I purchased a Smudge Stick at Whole Foods and came home and waved it through the rooms, paying special attention to the corners as advised.  And even though it stank to high heaven, I did this at least once a week, which did seem to help for a while, but the next day I’d find Lola quivering in the bathroom again.

Then we found a house and started work on remodeling it into our (well, my) dream home. And even though every person I know warned me it would be awful, it turned out to be a bigger deal than I ever imagined. I’m trying to stay organized but when I tried to look for a pair – any pair – of reading glasses in my purse, this is what I found.

IMG_04201. The first third of the world’s longest receipt from Walgreens, where I purchased two items.
2. A gas receipt for $65.13 (18.40 gallons of gas.  My car readout said I had 12 miles left before I ran out.)
3. The business card from the woman at Capitol Federal who helped me cash in sixty-two $25 savings bonds from my Aunt Kathleen’s estate that I carried around for two weeks in my purse.
4. One of the hundreds of receipts I have for Home Depot.
5. Every pair of my reading glasses.
6. Receipt for my, now daily, mini chocolate shake from Freddy’s.

IMG_04217. Middle third of world’s longest receipt.
8. An inkjet cartridge that I’ve been toting around since March, waiting to be dropped off to be refilled.
9. Receipt from Restoration Hardware for a can of the only kind of white paint I like and therefore was willing to drive 30 minutes to the Plaza to pick up. I frantically purchased said paint, when I found out I had one day to paint all the baseboards in my house before the floors were done.
10. A mostly broken pair of headphones that I use because my bluetooth system in my car (that I insisted I needed) doesn’t work right.
11. My snack bag I carry around to keep me from eating unhealthy food. (It’s filled with bacon.)

IMG_042212. Bottom third of world’s longest receipt.
13. Receipt from dry cleaners where I left with two heaping handfuls of their free Tootsie Rolls.
14. A note with the number of electrical covers to replace at the new house. The switches and outlets are white, but the covers are tan. Not going to work with my OCD.
15. Phillips and flathead screwdriver to install said covers, if and when they are ever purchased.
16. Note to buy olive oil – which is used on princess dog’s food.
17. Flyer for alterations – needed after daily intake of mini chocolate shakes.

Math is Hard [insert whining voice]

This One is Too Small

This One is Too Small

After several horrible months in our teeny-tiny apartment, we have finally purchased a home.

Because I’m not confident of my ability to make any logical decisions right now — for example; I took the inheritance I received from my father and purchased a black hole of problems in a vintage camper — I hired a design company to help me with the remodel.

Even though, I’m pretty confident I could have made this

IMG_0236

Into this:
IMG_0292
And this:
IMG_0264
Into this:
IMG_0293
I could never go any further with the plan.

Not only does the design team supervise the demo and construction, they also help with the decorating.

To assist them with their plan, I had the contents of one of our storage units, (the one that held all our furniture) delivered to the new house. I instructed the moving crew to line my items up in such a way that the design team could view all of my precious possessions  — like the coffee table made from an old wooden hardware cabinet or the eight foot tall antique secretary given to me by my mother-in-law — and then they could decide what was worth keeping and what should be relegated to the basement.

Turns out, none of my junk worldly goods are going to fit into the new hip, modern, design. Really? Not even the rusted head of a broken sledge hammer I kept in our living room? So much for the tiny thread of hope I held that I had good taste.

The one thing the design team loved and said they planned to put over the mantle in the hearth room, is this painting – which they called. Portrait of a Man.

Portrait of a Man

Portrait of a Man

I love Portrait of a Man, because it was painted by our son (my step-son) and  because it is a picture of our other son (my birth son). However, I don’t display this picture in a place of prominence because, our two daughters (my step-daughters) might be offended by a large exhibition of “my” son.

So, for years, Portrait of a Man has lived in my basement  because of all the agitation it could cause in our blended family.

Being a step-parent is a delicate operation and I work hard to balance our out-of-balance family.  Photos around the house are counted and re-counted. A picture of Husband with his son should be balanced out with a picture of Husband with my son.  A picture of me with step-daughter’s kids should be balanced out with a picture of me with my son’s child.  Christmas is a mathematical nightmare.  Do I use the number of presents as an equalizer? Or is it the amount spent on the present?

If I apply my blended family calculations to Portrait of a Man, and with the following givens:

(a) = painted by step-son

(b) = picture of my birth son

(c) = does not include step-daughters

(d) = no good will come from this

Then, (a + b) might equal zero. But, I’m pretty certain (a + b) – (c) =  (d)

Explaining these calculations to my friend, Kerry, she posed a question I’d never asked myself. “Do you really think your grown kids give a damn?”

Is that (f) in the equation?  Dang. Math is hard.