A snapshot of my mind lately

I wandered into the kitchen to strain the chicken stock I'd made the night before.  Then I remembered that I needed to put laundry in the machine so I went and grabbed the basket.  But then I got hungry so I started to make a snack. Then as I was sitting there, eating my snack (laundry basket by my feet), I decided I should finally hang the light fixture I bought.  So I pulled out the ladder and did that.

Is this what dementia is like?  Will there are least be good drugs to look forward to?

The bedroom

I love my bedroom.  I've spent the least time and energy on this room so it has evolved really slowly.  It was, like almost every other in the room in the house, painted two different colors.

 I sewed curtains for the room and had planned to paint the walls gray but I just couldn't find the right color.  My coworker gave me a bunch of paint samples and I ended up really liking one of the greens.

Cilantro cream by Behr. I love waking up in this room. 

I wanted something dramatic for behind my bed, as the prints I had hanging seemed out of proportion with the room.

I settled on an outdoor shade. $30 at Lowe's!  I found a bigger lamp (too big? what do you think?) at a consignment shop for $20.

I really wanted a mid-century modern dresser for this wall. 

And you know what's crazy?  I found this one at the thrift shop by work for $65.  It's gorgeous.  It was made in Portland by the B.P. John furniture company.  Finding it was like something out of The Secret, right?

A quick coat with the wood conditioner and it was shiny and newish looking.  I kept feeling like the corner with the chair needed something (aside from a new reading chair).  I kept trying different artwork there until I realized that it doesn't need art at all. 

It needs a lamp, no?  I love this one.  I'll never buy it, but a girl can dream. 

I'm still not crazy about the green curtains with the green walls, so I'll probably end up sewing new curtains at some point.  But my roommate came in recently and ooohed, "Oh, it's an ADULT room."  Hearing that made me jump up and down and clap my hands like a kid. Having a room I love like this is the fun part of being an adult.  The bills and the gray hair, not so much.

Uses for an undead boyfriend

I've been reading the Twilight series recently. I never got around to reading the fourth book, so I reread the first three.  If you've been living in a cave, the Twilight series is a tweener juggernaut about a vampire boy in love with a human girl, written by Stephenie Meyer.  She's a terrible writer but the underlying story is fun and addictive.  In her mythology vampires don't sleep during the day and can basically pass as human most of the time.

And you guys, her vampires are made of glitter.  GLITTER!

Ms. Meyer could write a lecture series on Knowing Your Target Audience.  The only way preteen girls could eat up the story more is if Edward (lead vampire boyfriend) rode in on Zac Efron.  Actually, that might be a very different story, one that a mormon like Ms. Meyer probably wouldn't write. 

But better than the whole glitter thing I found myself thinking about what I could do with an undead boyfriend.  While I was getting my beauty sleep and otherwise preparing myself to be a productive member of society, my undead boyfriend/husband could be priming the basement for me.  What else is he going to do--watch me sleep?  That's creepy.

 

Because painting a basement? It sucks eggs.  There's just no venting it sufficiently. Vampires don't breathe, so there would be no reason to worry about wearing a mask or risk of cancer.  While he took care of the basement I could address more important activities like getting a haircut and eating cookies. 

I was at work this week, waiting for my oatmeal to cook and flipping through the Sunday ads, when I saw that drywall primer was on sale.  I took this as a sign from the universe that I should prime this weekend.  I should have ignored the universe and watched movies instead.  First coat:

Second coat:

 

I still need to paint the ceiling, the edges, and throw on a third coat to the walls.  Then I need to finish all the edges where the drywall meets and basically fill in the cracks and gaps that are EVERYWHERE in the basement.  And then deal with the flooring.  I sort of want to throw up my hands because I'm not a babysteps kind of girl.  I like staying awake for 48 hours straight, working on nothing by coffee and granola bars, and getting shit done.  Not only do I lack the funds to finish the basement anytime soon, but there's so much labor to be put in.

Universe, get on that vampire boyfriend!

My house has a good personality, apparently.

The other day I was returning from work and there was someone sort of parked in the middle of the street, in front of my house.  I pulled into the driveway and started to head into my kitchen.  I heard someone behind me, on the driveway, calling, "Excuse me? Miss!"  I don't know why, but I hightailed it inside. I wasn't in the mood for whatever they were selling.  And it freaks me out when people I don't know come to the side door.

Then I remembered that car in the middle of the road and the driver that looked lost.  I opened my front door and a woman came running.  It turns out she was a realtor looking for comps for a client who was selling their house in the vicinity.  She handed me her card, so she obviously wasn't a murderer.

"Is your house in decent shape on the inside?"
"Um, yeah?  It was a foreclosure, so it had some problems."
"But it has wood floors?"
"Yes."
"Great.  I'm selling a house for a client and I wanted to show him other houses that are nice inside but look crappy from the outside."

So glad to be of service! Me and my ugly house are going to put on sweatpants and eat some ice cream.

The dining room, or how I spent my labor day weekend.

My dining room is odd.  When I bought the house the trim was missing from an entire wall where there had clearly been water damage at some point.  I figured I'd have to spend the next year visiting The Rebuilding Center looking for matching trim.  Then there's the half carpet situation.  The wood floor actually extends underneath and beyond where the carpet ends, but only by 8 inches.

I have a theory about this.  My realtor thinks I'm crazy.

In Portland Maps, under the section where they break down the square footage, there's a carport that measures 140 square feet.  I don't have a carport.  I think this section of the dining room used to be the carport. 

It would explain why I have an electrical panel in the dining room. It would explain why there's wood flooring only in half the room. 

Anyhoosy, the dining room was a bit of a mess.  Paint that didn't meet the corners, missing trim, electrical outlets hanging out of the wall.  That first week I was working on the house my electrician friend Josh came and took care of all the safety hazards.  He cleaned up the bad wiring in the attic, anchored the electrical outlets properly, and did a once-over to make sure I didn't go up in smoke.  One day I was home, recovering from dental work, when I noticed some boards high on a shelf in my garage.

The missing trim! It was all there!  Once I got that up I was motivated to paint the trim.

Once the trim was painted I got the bug to paint the whole room.  I had originally wanted to paint the dining room a steel blue and the living room a deep warm orange.  But I sort of liked having the rooftop painting against the green . . . it made parts of the painting pop in a way I didn't think they would on a blue wall.  So I put some paint samples up and found a pale green I liked.

A funny thing happened at the Home Depot.  The color swatch I put on the wall was a Glidden paint sample.  When I went to purchase a full gallon I asked for it to be put in a Behr base. I figured they'd grab the color coding from the Glidden paint and just put it in the Behr base.  Instead they used the color matching computer program.  The resulting paint did NOT match the paint sample I put on the wall.  It had a sick fluorescent tinge to it.

It was the color of toothpaste!  Seriously:

It made me crazy, so crazy I couldn't stand it.  The next day I went and bought more paint samples.  Two days later, Labor Day, I went back to Home Depot and got a new paint color.  It wasn't as gray as I wanted, but I could live with it.  It's very pretty in the morning light.  At night it almost has a metallic sheen.

 

 

Soon I'll reupholster the chairs with a more vibrant pattern in an orange or yellow tone.  Someday I'll have the floors refinished and extended so I can get rid of that crazy zigzag carpet.  For now the paint demons have been quieted, though I'm sure they'll start screaming again soon.  I never though I was compulsive until I bought a house; now I'm pretty sure I could paint trim for a millennium and I don't know if I'd be in heaven or hell.  I'm learning so much about myself, mainly that there's a lot of crazy in here.  Or maybe that's the paint fumes talking.

The arbor vitae

The former owner's lady friend decided to plant eleven arbor vitae in front of the house, along the parking strip.  They were about a foot tall when she planted them, according to my next door neighbor.  They're a little bigger now.

It was impossible to see when I backed out the driveway, and it made it difficult to see if there was oncoming traffic when you came around the corner.  A lot of people plant arbor vitae in their side or back yards to create privacy but I rarely see them in the front yard.  I hated them.

My friend David is a farmer/landscaper/savior who volunteered to remove the arbor vitae.  All eleven of them.  For free.  He's amazing.

He started by sawing down the main body.  He was really fast at it.

Once most of it had been removed he very laboriously popped the stump and root system.  He used a long pry bar and a whole lot of muscle.  While he worked to remove the stumps I would chop down the next tree.

It took all day.  I'm really slow with an axe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt oddly naked inside the house now.  I was so used to being hidden behind those overgrown shrubs.  So many of my neighbors stopped by to say how happy they were to see them gone.  And now I can back out of my driveway without getting sideswiped.  David came the day we pulled out the furnace to yank out the last three stumps, finished in record time, then helped us pull out the furnace.  Such a badass.  His fiancee is a lucky lady.

The new furnace

I don't know why, but hiring professionals to do things makes me nervous.  The crew at Jacobs did a fantastic job on my furnace, but having to be present in the house while they installed got me all amped up.  What was that noise?  Does the fact that he asked X question mean that he doesn't know what he's doing? 

I would hate to work for me.  I'm particular, I ask too many questions, and I get my panties in a bunch at the drop of a hat.  The young man they sent over asked a lot of questions about where ducts should go, where venting should come out of the side of my house . . . things I felt he should know.  It turned out this is normal for them, that they like to arrange these things with the customer.  But at the time it seemed odd, and I came down after the first day to see the furnace looking like this:

With the white PVC ducting crossing in front of the furnace it looked . . . homemade. Like something I would build.  It really bothered me.  I suspected it would bother me for the next 25 years.  I started to worry that they had sent me an installer who didn't know what he was doing.  I called the company that morning and voiced my concerns.  They sent out a manager the next morning to smooth things over.

The installer agreed to redo the PVC exhaust so it would run behind the unit.  The manager was really nice, he assured me that everything was going well.  I was feeling better.  Then he told me, "Relax."

Have you ever had a contractor or repairman tell you to relax?  It makes me do the opposite.  It makes me angry; it's so dismissive.  Should a contractor ever stumble across this blog, DO NOT TELL WOMEN TO RELAX.

 In the end they redid the ducting and I'm very happy with everything.  The new furnace is so quiet you can barely hear it running.  I would use them again in a heartbeat, even if my blood still boils a little when I think about that stupid five letter word: relax.  Grrr.