an_sceal: (Ha fucking ha)
It's 11:45- do you know where YOUR sewage line is?

Because I fucking well do. It's under my basement. And under my dye studio. And under my cherry tree.

And tonight, after 15 years of extremely borrowed time, the Orangeburg pipe that was our main sewage line seems to have given up the ghost. Stanley went downstairs to discover about 4 inches of brownish (ish. VERY FUCKING -ish-) water in the shower, and another 2 inches or so in the former laundry room, a.k.a. my dye studio. We've spent the past hour and a half moving sopping wet STUFF out of the basement, plunging with all our might, and finally conceding defeat.

As I was moving the heavy duty metal shelf with all my dyes on it away from the drain in the floor, I managed to snag the overflow pipe from the air conditioner and snap it in half. Which means we can't run the AC until THAT gets fixed. This just goes to prove that there is no situation that I cannot make worse with just a little effort. Truly, I am the Downside.

I really wish we'd noticed this before I applied my lovely Lush face mask. Because through all of this, I have been a green goblin, covered in the flaking remains of my attempted beauty.

At one point, when we were taking out the completely soaked, putrid ceiling tiles (extras that we were going to redo the basement ceiling in, I think), parts of them fell off into the water and splashed it up on my shoes. I thought to myself, "Damn, I really liked those shoes." Then, when I realized that I still had to pick those parts up, I thought to myself, "Damn, I really liked those hands."

I also still have 1,000 words to write. Hmmm. This deadline is looking less and less likely. Good planning.

I say tonight, with all sincerity, FML.
*waves weakly*

I am completely overwhelmed. By work, by everything I think I need to get done, everything I think I'm forgetting, by obligations, real and imagined. I'm completely lost, I am never ever going to answer the million emails and comments that I mean to. (I ALWAYS read them. I ALWAYS -mean- to answer right away.)

I don't know where to begin, or where to stop. I need to dye things, but before I can dye things, I need to clean the space that I dye things IN. Before friends come next weekend, I need to finish...what? I don't even KNOW. There is no perfect, but is it good enough? I don't know. I do know that my ice cream maker is broken, and I have no milk, and my hair is doing that fucked up summer THING where it's smooth and shiny for about 20 minutes before it becomes a total rats nest, or goes all limp and goopy.

I'm tired and jumpy, and feeling flaily, and I don't know what to do first, so instead I just keep reading New!Trek fic. Because...well, honestly, because Zachary Quinto is hot like burning, and Chris Pine has EYE CRINKLES WHEN HE SMILES, and I've seen the damn movie three times now, and I am shallow.

It's not as bad as it feels. I have been working non-stop on my weekends for the past month, and I can see huge changes, but...I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something, no matter what, and unfortunately, I'm not in the right headspace to just not CARE right now.

So yeah. Tomorrow- Trek fic (DAMN YOU, QUINTO!), Fall Out Boy, way too loud (DAMN YOU, WENTZ!), and waaaaay too much work. (DAMN YOU, INTERNS!)
Wheeeeeeeeeeee! New fridge! Now we have two, so we can lay in enough DP for Debbie. *grin*

Today I:

Painted a wall in an elementary school
Painted a mural in an elementary school
Re-painted a mural someone ELSE painted in an elementary school
Turned over the dirt all around the edge of the deck for my garden.
Planted 75% of my garden

Notice how "finished my story" isn't on there?

AUUUUUGH! *goes back to work*
Info and pictures about the renovations going on at the Collective house can be found here:

[ profile] bedlam_house

Now with director's commentary!  Or something...
Recall, if you will, the Toe Thing I was dealing with around this time last year. I finally wound up at the podiatrist, where he excavated a portion of my big toe and burned out the nailbed, swearing that it wouldn't grow back and would never be a problem for me again.

Guess what?

It grew back. And it's ingrown again. And infected again. And it hurts like a mother. So today I'm off to ANOTHER podiatrist, to have a similar pocedure (I imagine) done. At least I get to leave work early.

The house thing? It's not relaxing at all. In the least. The only moments of relaxation I enjoyed this weekend were the ones I spent imagining what it would be like to bathe in my new jacuzzi tub. Which rocks. And which is sitting in my new bathroom as we speak, waiting for plumbing.

Eventually (hopefully tonight?) we'll be getting together some pictures of the ongoing building project up at [ profile] bedlam_house. It's pretty cool. And also? ENTIRELY CONSUMING MY BRAIN.

Except for the part that is writing Marton and Janska.
Ripping out five rows of knitting wasn't how I intended to spend my morning, but oh well.

I need another bookshelf, but I don't have the space for it.  Well, I do, but I'll have to get rid of one of my others, which, given its age, isn't a huge loss.  I suppose I'll be off to Ikea tomorrow at some point. 

I'm just kind of lounging around my cottage today, chilling out and getting myself back together.  Watching trashy tv (BBC America's home shows are endlessly fascinating), sorting through the stuff I brought back from Paris for everyone, and contemplating hanging up my laundry.  Last night was really fun, and I slept far too late, so I'm just kind of enjoying the chance to slack. 

On the list for today:

Thank yous for the presents I received while I was gone
Sort through my purses and recombine them
Find fabric scraps for more watch bands
Put my dishes away
Measure my tapestry for a hanging rod.
an_sceal: (My fandom)
What You Need by [ profile] violaswamp
A House/Veronica Mars crossover.

Short, amusing character sketch based on the terrifying thought of House being someone's guardian. -Logan's- guardian. And wonder of wonders from me, it's PG rated gen.

Go ahead. You know you want to.

December 2015



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