Just When I Was Feeling Accomplished . . .

I was feeling pretty proud of myself for a relatively productive day. I'd finished painting the closet (primer and two coats of color), I'd done a little clever re-arranging in the laundry room (rearranging that involved the use of a cordless drill, so handy of me!), I'd put up a hook by the fireplace so that my bellows wasn't just laying on the carpet all the time. I was even installing some new weatherstripping on my back door when my neighbor stopped by to ask if I'd be willing to housesit once in awhile. Since I've noticed he has DishNetwork, my answer was a HELL YES! And then he pointed to some long-ass pieces of wood that have been stacked by my house since the aborted siding project of this summer and casually asked if I needed to put those away before they got ruined by the weather. Shit. YES. I DO need to put them away if I don't want them to be useless by spring. But . . . I'd kind of just decided . . . I didn't really care and wasn't going to do anything about it since did I mention they're REALLY long and cumbersome and a pain in the ass to move not to mention there's a hell of a lot of them and the only place to really put them is on some shelves below the ceiling of the carport which requires some really awkward maneuvering. But. Fuck. I've been shamed.

I am Not a Perfectionist

This is not a new revelation, but every once in awhile it strikes me afresh. I mean you all know this about me, especially if you're a former co-worker. But all these little home-improvement projects I've signed up for . . . yeah.

One of the many projects that my uncle began (and really, "began" is the operative word here) when he was here last time was the creation of a real, honest to goodness, coat closet. It was a great idea. This house has NO closets. Of any kind. But under the stairs there was this area that vaguely resembled a closet, in that it was kind of tucked away and had its own light. But it wasn't walled in, so anything you stacked under the stairs, was visible from everywhere in the living room, sort of defeating the purpose of a closet (which is to let you throw crap somewhere it can't be seen and therefore can be forgotten.) Anyway, my uncle took down the shelves which were in the living room sort of shielding some of the crap under the stairs from view, stacked everything that was on the shelves in my dining room, took out all the outlets and switches and lights, walled in this space with drywall, and bought a door to put on it, and my very kind and helpful neighbor came down and put on the first couple of layers of mud to smooth the walls. And then my uncle left. So for the last month I've had this unfinished useless closet where there formerly was a very functional, if ugly storage space. Sigh. My carpet has been rolled away from the wall, my couch has been in the middle of the living room, and the bookshelves that used to be outside the closet are sitting out in the carport making it impossible to park my car there (they're really big shelves), and my dining room is full of boxes of crap that really belongs in a closet, unseen.

The big hold-up in finishing this closet, is that the living room bookshelves can't get put up until the walls are painted. And the walls really shouldn't be painted until they're textured to match the rest of the living room. Which is a messy job, and mixing mud is a pain in the ass. So today I finally said "fuck it". I don't like the texture on the rest of the walls anyway. The closet walls are smooth enough. I'll paint them, and I'll get the neighbor down to help me put the shelves back up, and it will be FINE. And, more importantly, finished.

So yeah, I'm not even a proponent of "the perfect is sometimes an enemy of the good". I'm really more a "why bother reaching for good, when with a little less effort you can achieve good enough" kind of girl.

Sociability

The main reason I got a job wasn't to ease financial pressure, or to finance trips to Alabama that I no longer need to take, it was to give myself a chance, meagre though it might be, at a social life that wasn't entirely dependent on some form of long distance communication. It's hard to make friends, or even acquaintances, as adults. It's even harder when you don't take a class, volunteer, have a job, or have any other reason to see the same people on a regular enough basis to learn their names.

I haven't really had a chance to feel isolated here. I had all that family staying with me, I had trips to look forward to, I had this bizarre long distance relationship taking up a (definitely too large) place in my emotional life. But I could see the very real possibility of lonliness setting in with the snow and the cold of a mountain winter. So I got a job.

Last night I went out for a drink with two girls from work. They're both 26, funny, and interesting. In the bar, between them, they knew 80% of the people there. And it was pretty crowded. In spite of feeling very very aged (don't even get me started on the lectures on how to stalk MySpace cuties I got from one of them while killing time at work), I had a good time. We talked about Christmas trees, and going out for sushi next Friday (yes, you can get sushi in the inter-mountain west . . . and yes, I agree that this is not necessarily a good plan but . . .) And I felt, like maybe, if I really try, and I master my anti-social tendencies, I could cobble together some sort of social life here. Right around the time that I run out of money and have to move.

Expensive

Working at a spa when it's slow is kind of expensive. There were only three appointments all damn day, and once I'd done all my little routine tasks, and done as many non-routine tasks as I could think of . . . I mostly just chatted with the therapists and . . . bought stuff and scheduled treatments for myself. Even with my discount, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to break even when this is all said and done. Oh well. At least I'll have well-cut and shiny deep-conditioned hair and plenty of fancy face creams.

Tragedy

I sent a box of CDs and DVDs to my mom via media mail while I was preparing to leave DC, and it never arrived. I keep discovering new things that I'm missing. The latest discovery . . . While You Were Sleeping and About a Boy. I love those movies. Those are my main, go-to comfort movies. This is truly a tragedy. If I'd just noticed yesterday, I could have picked up new copies while I was down in Boise. I guess this requires a trip to Amazon. I'm so disappointed. I wanted to watch a double feature while folding laundry and putting up curtains. Sigh. I guess this means I have to go to the back-ups Notting Hill and Ever After.

ETA: I'm also missing Bridget Jones. This is getting expensive. HATE the post office.

Uncontrolled Email Checking

Ok, so the Relationship is dead as a fucking doornail as I mentioned yesterday. And I'm really not all that torn up about it. I'm sad, because we did really click, but I'm also sort of . . . relieved I guess because, as Zach keeps reminding me, spinsterhood gets a really bad rap, and a big part of me believes it really is my natural state, and when a relationship ends I always sort of sigh as the stress of NOT being a spinster melts away. I like cats. I read old-lady books. I like living by myself. I love gossipping with my fellow old biddies. I haven't managed to maintain a romantic relationship for more than three months since I was 19. Come on, the evidence is pretty damn overwhelming.

So why do I keep checking my email every 5 minutes? I know he's not going to write. I don't expect him to. Dead as a fucking doornail. But the pre-breakup pattern remains. So . . . I had this BRILLIANT money-making idea. And I'm sending it out free over the internet so someone with the skills can actually develop it. Someone needs to create some sort of software that could be installed that would allow a computer user to access any websites they choose at only pre-determined intervals. Now, a little google search produced this software, but it's for KIDS and doesn't do quite what I have in mind. Surely someone could create something similar for adults! And think of the marketing opportunities! Businesses would love it, internet addicts, the recently broken up . . . I tell you, a gold mine.

Obituary

Yesterday was pretty great in a lot of ways. I did just what I planned and sat by the fire reading books (and watching a little TV, YAY!) for most of the day. But I also got caught up with several friends on the phone (Hi Another DC Lawyer!) and did just enough clearing up of construction detritus to make me not want to throw up every time I look around my living room. (I still feel a little queasy, but it's bearable.)

In sadder news, I'm sorry to announce that after a brief illness, the new long-distance Relationship I was in died yesterday. The cause of death was determined to be lack of care and feeding and, well, insurmountable distance. Poor Relationship! The wake was sparsely attended via AOL, and the dear departed was interred in my gmail archive late last night. In lieu of flowers, friends of the bereaved are encouraged to send themselves, c/o "Corina".

Winter

It's been raining ever since I got home late Thursday night, but last night it finally got really cold and this morning I woke up to my first real Idaho snowfall.Today I've got big plans of enjoying the snow outside my window by drinking tea, eating lefse, and reading by the fire.

Spa Days

I spent the last two days working at the spa. It's the slow season, so it wasn't terribly busy, which gave me lots of time to get slowly acclimated and figure out how to do things, and where things are, without a whole lot of pressure. But even without stress, it's exhausting being someplace all day! I was totally worn out by the end of today and the most physically demanding and complicated task I performed was folding a bunch of fitted sheets. Other than just the ugh factor of, you know, working, I really like it. The people are fantastically nice and fun, and there's always something to do so the days don't go too slowly. Right now I'm only going to be working two days a week, which seems like really the ideal ratio to me. I'm trying to work up my nerve to go in one one of my days off next week for a yoga class or two. I really need it.

First Day

I made it home late last night to a cold house and some seriously lonely cats. A fire took the edge off the first, and a night of interrupted sleep (mine) and snuggling (Sugar's) and random pets (Freckles and the last remaining kittens) took care of the second. And now, I'm getting ready for my first day of work. This is so weird.

Last Hurrah

I'm off to Poulsbo, Washington for a few days to meet my mom (bearing a full tivo positively stuffed with unwatched television - I'm practically giddy); visit my grandmother, aunt, and the uncle who just left yesterday; deliver a kitten to its new home (I'm going to miss this one, we've bonded); stock up on lefse at the Norwegian bakery; catch up on my unlistened to audiobooks; with any luck drive three hours out of my way to do a little tax-free IKEA shopping; put another thousand+ miles on my car; and just generally exhaust myself before I start my new job on Friday. Woohoo! Hope you all have an equally exciting week ahead.

P.S. I still have cows grazing in my front yard. (My mom gets so irked when I say that, because apparently not all cows are cows, only the ones with udders are cows, the others are steers. Whatever. I like saying cows. But to soothe my mom, the bearer of the aforementioned tivo (and several buckets of kindling because she really is the best mom ever) I still have two steers and a cow grazing in my front yard. What do you wanna bet their owner won't "find" them until they've had their fill of free feed?)

Cows!

I looked up from taking some cookies out of the oven to see three cows (!) in my front yard. They're not supposed to be there. But I can't say I mind. I like cows. I think they're kind of decorative. They're even better than a grouping of pink plastic flamingos. Plus they're useful; they keep the grass from getting too long. Really, it's a win-win.

Lottery

I'm (possibly unhealthily) obsessed with the idea of winning the lottery. Everybody reading this knows that I truly believe that someday I'll win so much money that all this torturous indecision about what I'm going to do with my life will turn into torturous indecision about how I'm going to save and invest and spend the huge piles o' cash that the fine folks at Powerball will be depositing into my checking account. And part of the completely illogical thinking behind this absolute certainty that someday I will win a jackpot, is that I've never won so much as a dollar with all the tickets I've bought. Not once. (Can you see where this is going?) Well, I've gotten my retired uncle, who has a nice fat government pension and no real need for a lottery win, addicted to buying tickets too (he wants to win so that my mom and I can retire. Say it with me, "aw!") So last night he realized that it was almost time for the drawing, and ran into town to pick us up two tickets. And godDAMN if my ticket didn't win three fucking dollars. ARGH! I mean, nice, three more tickets paid for, but . . . what does this do to my accumulated store of lottery luck?!?!? Was it wasted on winning THREE DOLLARS!?!?!

I know how insane this all sounds. Really, I do. But . . . still. Three dollars. Crap.

Self-sufficient

When I moved into the cabin, I had lots of grand ideas about home improvement projects I'd take on by myself. I'd teach myself how to do all sorts of things and the cabin would look amazing. After all, home improvement runs in my blood. My parents were always doing handy things and surely I could be handy too if I had enough time and no TV to distract me.

And then, all of a sudden, I got lots of help. My uncle came for over a month this summer, and my mom was here while I was in Belize, and my uncle is here again now . . . and somehow that spark just faded. I tried at first, really I did. But my uncle, while a fantastic teacher, doesn't really need a lot of help, so there was a lot of just standing around watching him do things and occasionally handing up a tool while he was on the ladder. And then, when I got back from Belize, it was easier to just hide in the loft, playing with the kittens and reading the internet, and generally just keeping out of his way except when I had to come downstairs to play the girly supportive role - making sure he ate, and keeping him in cookies, and when there was something decorative to do, like painting, getting my hands a little dirty.

As I woke up this morning, I could see the sun streaming through a seam in the wall in what would be a closet . . . if I had such things as closets. When I'd moved in, this little triangular section of wall had some ratty old insulation covered by a 1980s era floral sheet. While my mom was here, and I was in Belize, she'd discovered a wasp nest in the insulation (I know, it's mortifying, don't you want to come visit?) and had ripped off the sheet and disposed of the insulation, leaving only thin sheets of rotting exterior plywood between me and -20 degree winter. So this morning, I thought . . . well, I know how to caulk, I'll just seal up that seam. So I did. And then I thought, you know, there are spare slabs of drywall laying everywhere, I bet I can put one up. And amazingly enough, I did. Now, I didn't do a great job, but I put up nailing strips and insulation, and cut a piece of drywall to fit the hole, and now, now that little corner of what should be a closet is weathertight and doesn't look all that much worse than the rest of the naked drywall lining the walls of the loft. It's a little cattywampus, because I didn't bother with using a level to make sure the nailing strips were even, but . . . I did it myself. No help. And I feel ridiculously proud of myself for it.

(Not proud enough to post a photo, because it actually looks kind of like shit.)

I'm employed?

Really? Are you sure? I . . . got a job? For reals? Apparently.

Starting next Friday, I'll be working three days a week as a receptionist at a spa. And, awesomely, I do get a discount on spa services. I also get free yoga classes. So . . . I'm going to have to be someplace three days a week. Working. This will be interesting.

Um

I just applied for a part-time job as a receptionist at a spa. What do you bet they don't even consider me because my resume is so screwy? A little retail work here . . . three years as a lawyer there . . . a big long stint of doing absolutely nothing productive . . . the woman I spoke to on the phone did like my phone voice though, which if nothing else was nice to hear.

But the weird thing is, part of me really wants this job! I think it would make the winter less lonely, especially as I study for the bar, which is a horribly solitary thing. I could meet some people, have the constant human interaction that I didn't get as a lawyer, get out of my pyjamas and wear some of my cute business casual fall/winter wardrobe, have a little extra spending money . . . and I didn't ask, but I wonder if I'd get a discount on spa services? The occasional facial could be nothing but good.

ETA: Well, I got an interview. The guy who called asked if I could come in today, and all I could think was . . . . but . . . I haven't washed my hair in three days and I have no idea which boxes my work appropriate attire is in . . . so . . . how about tomorrow? Wish me luck!

Contentment is . . .

Sitting on your bed playing literati online with one of your best friends, with a storm brewing outside, and a kitten purring between your feet.

More signs of Fall

I woke up this morning to ice on the windows, and the sounds of Canada Geese migrating south.

Walking

I went for a little walk today, determined to get a few photos of the beautiful leaves before they're gone. I didn't walk far, maybe two miles round trip, but . . . and this is embarassing, it's probably the farthest I've walked since I was in S.E. Asia. Now I haven't been entirely lazy since then, I've done some hiking since I got back, but that's different. For me, hiking means driving someplace for the express purpose of walking once you get there. But just stepping out my front door and going for a walk? Haven't really done it since I moved to Idaho.

I loved to walk in DC. I walked to and from work every day, rain or shine. I'd walk into Georgetown; I'd walk to movie theaters, brunches, book stores. Often the destination was just an excuse to get out of the house to go for a walk, but there was always a destination. And when I was in Oregon I walked every day too, I'd take the dogs and we'd head out into the maze of logging roads in the hills behind my parents' house.

But . . . it's different here. Walking without a purpose, without a reason, strolling along the dusty empty roads makes me feel exposed and vulnerable in a way that walking in the city never did. It feels aimless and somehow shameful, and I can't figure out why. When I was in college I'd often wake up in the middle of the night, put on my shoes, and wander through a dead and quiet city, with no goal, no purpose, other than to be outside, feeling the thrill of being alone in a public space. I felt exposed and vulnerable then too, but I liked it. What's changed? As I've gotten older, I've generally gotten more willing to feel vulnerable, not less. This difficulty stepping out my front door feels like a regression, and one I don't like.

The walk was beautiful. It sounded like quaking aspens and moaning cows, and smelled like pine needles and dust. I'm going to make myself go the other direction tomorrow.

Could this be a harbinger?

Will there be peace in our lifetime?

Weak

I've spent the last 40 minutes addressing and stamping envelopes to send to the kind people who've agreed to provide references for the Idaho Bar. It's a bad sign that now I want to cry, isn't it? Maybe, maybe not. I've been on the edge of tears almost constantly since I got back from Belize. But I haven't cried. There are plenty of silly, inane reasons, stupid insecurities, petty inconveniences, small frustrations triggering the chemicals that lead to a low-grade depression that makes the back of my throat clench and my eyes ache. I can't indulge because I have company once again. My uncle is back. Installing a new storm door as I type. I want to wail, feel small and hurt and weak and disappointed with myself and my life and my choices so that in the idiocy of my tears, the sheer melodrama of it all, I can get over it. Get my perspective back. But I have to wait until I'm alone. I have a process for dealing with this depression, honed over many many years, and the process requires space, and solitude, and lots of sugar. And for now I only have the last ingredient. Which isn't all bad I suppose.

Cat Update

I'm down to two kittens, both of them spoken for, YAY! While I was off galivanting, my mom took three of the kittens to the local shelter. Apparently, they don't have a ton of kittens right now, and they were sure they'd be able to find homes for them. I'll wander in next week just to see if they're still there.

Freckles seems thrilled to have fewer kittens around pestering her. She's eager to get outside and go hunting . . . which means I really need to get her in to the vet to be spayed. Don't worry, I will. There's no way I'm going through another kitten crisis if it can be prevented.

And Sugar . . . well, Sugar is an apartment kitty. She's never lived in the mountains before. This is all really new for her. Which background I'm providing to pre-empt all of you who might call her "dumb" (and yes, I'm talking to you DAVID) for jumping, with all four paws, onto a brightly burning wood stove last night. Don't worry, she's going to be fine. I took her to the vet this morning and apparently she only burned her toes and not the main paw pad, so barring an infection, she should heal just fine. She doesn't seem to have any trouble walking, the only indication that she's been injured is the occasional disgusted look she directs at her right front paw once in awhile.

Home

Remember before I left for my awesome Portland/Alabama/Belize vacation and I was all "wah, the trees are starting to change color and it's getting kind of chilly at night boohoo woe is me?" (Ok, maybe I didn't share it, I don't remember, but I do remember feeling that way.) Whatever. I'm home. And the drive up into the mountains was beautiful, all red and yellow leaves and dramatic cloud formations and . . . beautiful! And the view from my living room? Even more beautiful. Yellow aspens and snow on west mountain. Wait, did you catch that? Let me back up. There is SNOW on the MOUNTAIN. And the forecast for tonight? SNOW. Not on the mountain, on ME. And tomorrow's projected high? 44 degrees. Holy crap. I'm not ready for this. I haven't worn shoes regularly since I left for Myanmar at the end of January. I don't know if I can do cold. Guess we're about to find out.