Queen of Rambles

I’m sure I can’t be the most tired person in the whole, entire world. After all, there are new mothers out there. Victims of sleep deprivation torture. Starving children in Africa.

But I’m pretty damned tired.

The worst? The work is not getting done because a certain three year old makes work impossible. At first he loved the house and liked exploring everywhere. Our new fridge is a side-by-side, which is the reason I found him sucking on a frozen hunk of bacon while I was trying to put clothes away. Three levels makes supervision a much more tricky task. We had him locked out of our loft in the apartment so he wouldn’t jump over the edge of the half-wall. There’s really no reason he can’t have the run of this house, except that he doesn’t always answer when I call. Yesterday I decided Mike must have taken him, which made no sense at all. I was calling for him, but he wouldn’t answer. I called Mike’s cell and he didn’t have him. I was about to go into full panic mode, but finally found him in the basement nook.

I am just about to go insane with all the boxes. I hate disorder. It paralyzes me. I look at the piles and see n hope of things getting better so I can’t get started. Or I do get started, but then I have no idea where things should go or a three year old decides he can only be happy if he is being held.

We really need to get some kind of microwave cart/bakers rack/storage cabinet for the kitchen. That would make putting things away much more manageable. Also, we need to figure out how to anchor the book cases to the wall before we put all the books away. That means we have 20 boxes in middle of the attic that can’t be put away until the shelves are anchored. The shelves can’t be anchored until the apartment is clean because a clean apartment is priority. So things can’t be put away. So I am paralyzed with disorganization. So nothing happens.

It’s a good thing Mike is such a steady, determined worker.

Anybody want to go to Ikea with me tomorrow? Except it would be more like. . . oh. . . Thursday when I can actually get away to go do something. We have a couch being delivered tomorrow. The cable guy has to come back on Tuesday because we have a bunch of channels missing (Noggin and sci-fi, among many others), Wednesday is Zumba day. I don’t think Mike wants me to go off to Ikea alone, but it’s not like we have time to do it on the weekend. GAH!

I know, I know. I’m bitching when the bitching is because of something really great. We have a house! A house to call our very own! I really am loving it, I’m just not loving the transition.

Poor Erik is pretty confused. He was really happy the first couple of days and even slept all by himself in his own room for the first time ever. Why didn’t we do that sooner? Except we had no space for that, but whatever. Today he told me that he doesn’t ever want to be at the new house because there are boxes everywhere and it makes him angry. Ahhhhhh. My poor, sweet Mike clone. Like father, like son. They make me angry too. We have way too much junk, and I don’t know what to do with it all. Some of it is very nice junk but if we don’t use it and can’t even identify it, what good does it do us?

I guess I can’t really complain about having too much stuff. As Mike pointed out, it’s way better than the opposite problem.

Did I mention I’m totally PMSing? And still not eating any sugar even though I could go for a big batch of Cadbury cream eggs right now?

Did I mention all our plates are missing? It’s a good thing I have a junk box stuffed full of paper plates. We don’t use paper plates for several reasons, but I will buy them for special occasions. Then I feel guilty about them and just use regular plates. I don’t feel guilty about using them when I can’t find real plates. They have to be at the bottom of the pile in the basement, so it might be a few days before I get to them.

I will say I am loving all this space! We have storage! Real storage! I don’t have to have boxes and bags and junk cluttering up my clothes closet. My clothes closet is full of. . . . clothes! Who’d have thunk it? It is so peaceful to look in there and see everything arranged so nicely with no disorder causing me stress.

I am also loving not having to worry about the downstairs neighbor. Erik is a runner and jumper, so I was always wincing on my neighbors behalf and trying to keep him calm. It is such a relief to let him be himself. I’m sure the former neighbors are not complaining either.

Do you want to hear something funny? I cleared out a box that has been sitting in the closet since the last move–possibly since the move from Sweden. I couldn’t believe the stuff I found. I had a whole stash of lingerie from before Mike and I were living together. He would come and visit me in Astoria and I would prepare for a few weeks of total decadence. I think I’ve become a total prude because I’m shocked by some of the outfits. Can we say whore-riffic? *lol* I ran them all through the washer so maybe Mike will be in for a surprise one of these days. At the rate we’re going the past few weeks, he’d probably just give me a look then go to sleep. He’s working even harder than me, which feels impossible with a 35 pound whining tumor attached to my leg, but I know it’s true.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 22nd, 2009 at 9:35 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.