The good news:
The cast is off!
The bad news:
No weight bearing for another 3 weeks.
The good news:
They fitted her for a walker!
The bad news:
She looks drunk when she uses it.
Speaking of, I'm seriously considering taking up alcoholism as a hobby. You know, I sew, I read, I drink. Somehow I suspect the possibility of this no weight bearing rule wasn't mentioned on purpose, because first rule of pediatrics: TRY NOT TO FREAK OUT THE PARENTS. No weight bearing for a 6 year old. Ha.
[Best part of the day yesterday; the techs asked my daughter if she wanted to keep the cast. She said "I don't want to see it, ever again." Amen, sister.]
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Bad news. No Hoffa.
Coat closet, done. For someone who claims she hates wearing coats, I sure do own a lot of them. Some went off to the Snooty Fox, the others headed out for donation. You no longer have to live in fear of something falling on your head if you wish to approach the only closet downstairs.
Speaking of consigning things, did you know it takes longer than one week to get people to buy your crap? Me too. I certainly haven't called 3 times.
I'm now one day behind, but all is good. As long as I continue to purge, I am calling it a win. My house will never be a show room, because for every 10 items I remove from my house, I figure at least 2 work their way back in. [Dammit, you children, and your never empty backpacks.] I've developed a smaller goal as I've worked through the list, that for the time being, all I'm purchasing are consumables. But at the end of the 40 days, we should be free of so many things that were just taking up space in our lives.
Jesus, I sound like a hippie. While I recognize the importance of what we are accomplishing in this house, part of me would like to just go to Nordstroms and buy some shoes.
Speaking of consigning things, did you know it takes longer than one week to get people to buy your crap? Me too. I certainly haven't called 3 times.
I'm now one day behind, but all is good. As long as I continue to purge, I am calling it a win. My house will never be a show room, because for every 10 items I remove from my house, I figure at least 2 work their way back in. [Dammit, you children, and your never empty backpacks.] I've developed a smaller goal as I've worked through the list, that for the time being, all I'm purchasing are consumables. But at the end of the 40 days, we should be free of so many things that were just taking up space in our lives.
Jesus, I sound like a hippie. While I recognize the importance of what we are accomplishing in this house, part of me would like to just go to Nordstroms and buy some shoes.
Friday, January 25, 2013
If I knew I was going to find THAT I would have started this years ago.
Cleaned out the big bathroom yesterday. I have been showering with a headless Ariel doll for so long that it doesn't even bother me anymore. Poor Ariel. She just wanted feet and my kids mistook her for Marie Antoinette.
I cleared out a full trash bag of half empty lotions, deodorants, busted hair ties, and icky bath toys. My shelves are functional again. I'm keeping a mental list of my favorite items that are being unearthed as I do this, and yesterday's grab was two sample bottles of La Mer skin products. I haven't shopped at a store that even SELLS La Mer since before Van was born, and unless Target strikes a deal for french cosmetics anytime soon, I'm going to have to savor these little beauties.
Just past the halfway point in this project I have an observation. I'm working upstairs at the moment, and I find that if I let my guard down, the first floor of the house quickly gets overrun again. I realize that the goal of this is rid my home of upwards of 400 items, freeing us from being owned by our stuff. And I love that parts of my house are so much more relaxing - but when you have a busy family of 4 [or 3, or 6, or whatever] things come back into your life very quickly. I really do not want to feel like I've made this colossal effort only to look around in 3 months and wonder where all my lovely surfaces went.
I originally started this post on Tuesday, but unfortunately we had some health issues crop up in my family, and for the first time I had to skip a day while I helped out. Everyone is going to be just fine, and I will hopefully return to my list tomorrow. I have to clean out our main coat closet, and I'm actually a little excited. I expect to find Hoffa. -L.
I cleared out a full trash bag of half empty lotions, deodorants, busted hair ties, and icky bath toys. My shelves are functional again. I'm keeping a mental list of my favorite items that are being unearthed as I do this, and yesterday's grab was two sample bottles of La Mer skin products. I haven't shopped at a store that even SELLS La Mer since before Van was born, and unless Target strikes a deal for french cosmetics anytime soon, I'm going to have to savor these little beauties.
Just past the halfway point in this project I have an observation. I'm working upstairs at the moment, and I find that if I let my guard down, the first floor of the house quickly gets overrun again. I realize that the goal of this is rid my home of upwards of 400 items, freeing us from being owned by our stuff. And I love that parts of my house are so much more relaxing - but when you have a busy family of 4 [or 3, or 6, or whatever] things come back into your life very quickly. I really do not want to feel like I've made this colossal effort only to look around in 3 months and wonder where all my lovely surfaces went.
I originally started this post on Tuesday, but unfortunately we had some health issues crop up in my family, and for the first time I had to skip a day while I helped out. Everyone is going to be just fine, and I will hopefully return to my list tomorrow. I have to clean out our main coat closet, and I'm actually a little excited. I expect to find Hoffa. -L.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Despite my personal feelings about the Forty Niners, I am happy for Kevin.
Mostly because it would have been dreadful to live with him for the next week if they had lost.
My kids are not particularly phased by their normally peaceful father screaming obscenities at the television. I mean honestly, he's practically a Buddhist among the chaos of this family until one of his teams is in trouble. I should say that he tries very hard NOT to scream obscenities out loud. It's like watching Bender say "Eat...my...socks..." to Mr. Vernon and knowing that he doesn't mean socks.
I've started on my closets. Saturday was one of the most satisfying days I've had since I started this project. The closet in Van's room originally held my dressier clothing for work and other events. Over the years it became a bit of a dumping ground. It was a thrill to empty it and sort the things I will never wear again [Oh, Theory pants. I think you and I both know that I'll never squeeze a thigh back into you. Good luck at the Snooty Fox. Someone will love you again.] because my most formal events these days involve being the mystery reader for my daughter's kindergarten class. I think clean yoga pants fit that bill just fine.
The closet now has enough room to store things for my children, which frees up space in their actual rooms. I understand that this is how other people actually use their closets.
Yesterday I gave myself a day off, so today I resume work in our bedroom. If I'm not out in a week, alert A&E.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Halfway there.
Today I crossed the 20th item off of my list. I'm halfway home, and 2 days ahead of schedule. [With Kevin's help, we knocked a couple extra things off that were his domain. But not the man stereo. That is still down there, mocking me.]
I turned the page and saw the next thing I've been dreading. Master closets. We only have one closet in our room, but each of us have a peripheral closet in another room. Kevin cleaned his out not that long ago, and he doesn't ever buy new clothes so he's done. I...I...I can't say the same. Remember in the old timey radio shows where the hapless dad would open the hall closet and listeners would hear years of clutter crashing down? That plus a shit ton of shoes.
I wish I could quit you, Target.
I turned the page and saw the next thing I've been dreading. Master closets. We only have one closet in our room, but each of us have a peripheral closet in another room. Kevin cleaned his out not that long ago, and he doesn't ever buy new clothes so he's done. I...I...I can't say the same. Remember in the old timey radio shows where the hapless dad would open the hall closet and listeners would hear years of clutter crashing down? That plus a shit ton of shoes.
I wish I could quit you, Target.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Well, maybe she's not a cat, but she does remind me of a guinea pig.
In other news, my dog hung herself yesterday.
By a paw, but still. She got herself tangled in a very heavy blanket on the couch while we were out, and was dangling when I found her. One trip to the vet later, Alice is fine. Her foot is sprained, and she'll limp around for a few days, but she will be OK.
In other news, I'm really good at over-reacting. I thought for sure they would have to amputate; I'd have a three legged dog, and we'd have to rename her "Lucky". That dog is a cat. She has survived eating a rock, a boxer attack, accidental ingestion of a nutella sandwich, that time we thought she ate an eraser, and now this. I'm afraid to add them up - how many lives does she have left? Four? Do pugs get extra for being so dumb? [I know, I know. She's my child. I love her. But o.m.g. that dog is not smart.]
At one point the vet said that if the leg was broken they would have to cast her and I could do nothing but laugh. Cast. Sure. Go right ahead.
Today I attack Van's dresser. Long overdue. Also, the only piece of furniture we've gotten at Ikea that makes me crazy. The bottom drawer likes to fall apart, so while it's empty today I'm going to glue the shiz out of it. Then I'm going to put a picture on Pinterest and tell everyone it's made out of pallets I got on Craigslist.
By a paw, but still. She got herself tangled in a very heavy blanket on the couch while we were out, and was dangling when I found her. One trip to the vet later, Alice is fine. Her foot is sprained, and she'll limp around for a few days, but she will be OK.
In other news, I'm really good at over-reacting. I thought for sure they would have to amputate; I'd have a three legged dog, and we'd have to rename her "Lucky". That dog is a cat. She has survived eating a rock, a boxer attack, accidental ingestion of a nutella sandwich, that time we thought she ate an eraser, and now this. I'm afraid to add them up - how many lives does she have left? Four? Do pugs get extra for being so dumb? [I know, I know. She's my child. I love her. But o.m.g. that dog is not smart.]
At one point the vet said that if the leg was broken they would have to cast her and I could do nothing but laugh. Cast. Sure. Go right ahead.
Today I attack Van's dresser. Long overdue. Also, the only piece of furniture we've gotten at Ikea that makes me crazy. The bottom drawer likes to fall apart, so while it's empty today I'm going to glue the shiz out of it. Then I'm going to put a picture on Pinterest and tell everyone it's made out of pallets I got on Craigslist.
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