Chaos

And yes, that lovely old window you see overlooks the ocean.

It's all very well to cruise around and plot colours and pick out lovely paints, make decisions on matte or semi or gloss but HELL. My painter is wonderful, one of those self-deprecating geniuses. And so far 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom and 1 upper inner hallway are completed. By completed I mean: primer, ceilings, wainscoting and trim have all been meticulously applied, but to do all that he had to move stuff around. And hereby the chaos. He had a personal commitment for the weekend so wrapped up here Friday afternoon. He'll be back again on Monday morning first thing, to correct any small defects I might spot (none that I see) and then he'll tackle the upper outer hall and the lower main hall ceilings, on down to the living room and my office and back hall.

You might think I have a vast mansion of a place with all these halls but you'd be mistaken. The reason for the halls was to conserve heating in the winter in the good old days (and even now the freezing new days). So my little rabbit warren of a house has 4 halls and 5 tiny bedrooms with NO closets.

I sometimes wondered why I invested time and money into this place. And then I see the freshly painted rooms and I think - this is lovely, so badly needed and maybe, just maybe, these freshly decorated walls will extend beyond my lifespan and I won't have to do them again.

Meanwhile, I will trudge upstairs once again and survey the enormous amount of bits and pieces, scattered everywhere and question my own sanity: do I truly need all this stuff? And get ruthless, absolutely ruthless. Hear me, universe?

And this coming from a woman who discarded/recycled/donated 10 items per day for the last 50 odd days?

And felt so effing virtuous.

Chaos Prevention List

I had to let go of the term "procrastination". It spelled "fail" to me. I had to realize procrastination is just me and my addict mind creating chaos, stoking the fumes of adrenalin, putting me in touch with those years. You know. The ones where drinkin' 'n' smokin' 'n' *other stuff* ran my life.

So I came up with an alternative title. And it helps.

I know this post will mean absolutely zero to most of you out there. You guys with the handle on things, who do your dishes on time and vacuum and dust whether you need to or not.

I live on the edge a little. It used to be a lot so there is marked improvement. Seriously.
I was out with some prim and propers today. Some of whom were Irish doing the tour. I have to watch my mouth. I said shyte once and their jaws dropped. I know I can never be friends with such people.

I think cardiacs would have occurred if I'd gone into my pagan state. When I mentioned my mother's tribe, The O'Sullivan Bearas, and the massacre on Dursey Island, they told me they didn't like to dwell on that stuff, it was all history now. And they didn't care for it.

I was tempted to bring up Tuam and the baby bodies in the septic tank but my mother brought me up right so I sipped on tea while they ate their scones and I behaved myself. It was hard.

Mulling to myself around the pretty china and matching talk, I realized they would never, ever need a Chaos Prevention List. Ever.

And could put me in my place, proper-like, if I dared to say "Shyte" once again.