I give up. I’m never going to have a normal sleep cycle ever again. It’s 6 am which admittedly is better than 2 or 3, but I’d like more sleep in one chunk, since I fell asleep after midnight and I need to hold onto as much collagen as I can. But who am I really to complain? It’s not that I’ve been doing anything particularly important or strenuous, except having a mind that works overtime on a to do list of epic proportions.
Why just yesterday, while again avoiding the dreaded paperwork (is it precisely “paperwork” if it’s mostly in your computer that the papers exist?), I sorted screws and nails then placed them in the little jars of an antique (from my father’s garage) spinny contraption, which I had first wire- brushed, washed, hand and air-dried, then blow dried, wd40’d, and blotted. Whew.
And that’s not all I did. Why, because we had an extraordinary amount of time on our precious hands (six year old grandson was with dad -first weekend since plague shutdown, yikes! Yay!) we decided to clean out the utility room to organize. Whoopee. This spot, formerly known as the universal “shove as much stuff as you can cause we can’t figure out where to put it without impeding washer/dryer access” site. Needless to say now our counters, entire kitchen, floors and dining room are covered with stuff that still needs sorting. Marie Kondo might have a Coronavirunary here. It is also a dangerous place for dogs and humans, so all are treading mindfully to avoid protruding objects or an unwanted trip to urgent care.
We are still doing the best we can. I unearthed a drill battery sleeping beside a glue gun- the two were carefully wrapped in hand towel with a screw, a bit and a glue stick. One wonders whether they might’ve been attempting to mate?Hmmm. But those were not the oddest pairs. Uh, uh, uh. No it was the curtain rod and finial, deftly placed inside a Christmas wreath (fake, we are enough of a hazard without kindling) and a wrench, as if it were a deliberate “no Christmas here” sign from the little six year old elf who resides within the walls of our abode. Alas, grandson is a gift junkie and would never suggest, even subliminally, that the birth of our Commercialism gone Nuts (Xmas) be forbidden. I’m sure he had something else in mind – going cold turkey on presents was not it. Not sure about the Mating mismatched tools however.
It is said that every 4 moves= 1 house fire. Alas moving here to Austin was only my third in thirty years and daughter’s second in two years and Lordy Lordy it shows. Now if one were to add our moves together it would maybe seem reasonable to say we’ve gotten rid of a lot of shit, but unfortunately this ain’t quite the case. I confess I am no angel when it comes to secreting stuff away to possibly use at a later date. In my studio next door I have some gleaning to do – I make art out of trash…get the picture?
Okay here’s my moment to mention my art website but I’m going to make you work for it. The usual: Www. My name and only dot com. See no link. Do your due diligence. No need to buy anything, just be remotely impressed and I’ll be somewhat satisfied (more so if you buy a magnet set, cards or books or art. But don’t worry, I’ll get by. (Note infusion of obligatory Jewish guilt).
I’ve been slightly averse to venturing into the studio to make art, instead I’ve been painting in the back yard when it’s sunny. My actual studio/office is not as bright and airy as home, but it is an escape from people-noise and other distractions like dogs, laundry, house cleaning, utility room spread, politics, and a tv. Aha! I have a reason to go there today, that is unless I take a long walk in the sunshine first. And my list grows.
Tune in.
Janet Bernson 