Shrunken World

Like a shrunken head. Mine.

Now that I am free from all "outside" activities I enjoyed my first day of mobility and breathing yesterday. I proceeded to reorganize my office, which some of you may recall is a part of my bedroom. I moved a very high wooden yarn shelf in from my locker room and began sorting all my writing binders - oh those novels, oh those short stories, oh those plays! - into some semblance of order. it also serves as a kind of room divider. I think I will throw a spider plant on the top shelf. I have quite a bit to go yet but I am so very pleased with how this is all coming together. I'm one for keeping note scraps on story ideas and scenarios, I'd love to have a system for these. Any ideas? They would need sorting into headings or some such, not sure. Some are barely legible but meaningful to me.

After enduring abuse from an anonymous commenter on this blog, I will no longer allow such creepy trolls with their own sick agendas to comment. They will be deleted unread. I recommend if you suffer similarly.

I believe I needed this health wake-up call to pay attention to my own inner creative spirit. I see my doctor tomorrow for followup.

My 80yo cleaning woman couldn't make it as scheduled today as she was worn out from cleaning another client yesterday. I told her to take time off any time she needs. She can't survive on her tiny pension and OAS. It is heart-breaking. Our MHA shows up today to party with the residents. He's the one who read our petition in the HoA. He's going to present a copy of the petition to my SOS founding partner. She's game ball. I'm not. I might want to physically assault him and scream "We want action, not words!" She's far more intimidated than I am but we make a good team. I do the yelling and plotting. So to avoid prison I stay away from him right now. And strategise some more.

I love this picture of a place very dear to me taken in 2014.

Dis 'N Dat

I totally spoke too soon on the BP miracle med. Ha! My BP has normal readings but hell, the side effects of this tiny dose of Beta Blocker are dreadful. Cement head with dizziness and the effect on my legs with existing PVD condition is awful, my legs now feel like lead AND I want to sleep ALL the time because I am so irritable if I don't because I'm exhausted. I consulted Dr. Google on this med and its effect on PVD are not good plus it has mental effects. My doc had said I may want to see him this week without specifying why. Now I know. So my exhilaration was brief. Now back to the drawing board.

When awake for this 10% of my life, I struggled with a hook on my bathroom wall that would not come off:

So I posted this challenge on FB and readers jumped to the rescue asking for more pictures:

And offering many suggestions on removal:

Explosion Boom GIF from Explosion GIFs

I needed to put a shelving unit there - now removed from my bedroom closet as I have my old semainier in my bedroom. The hook was blocking its fitting exactly into that wall space.

I don't know about you but I really, really hate when plans are thrown by the "small stuff" obstacles thrown in my path.

So none of the suggestions worked.

My friend Marg appeared at my door a couple of hours ago, all brisk and business like and said show me that effin hook. Long story short as I passed her many tools from my tool box like a surgeon's assistant (I know you're surprised I have a tool box, so was she - and impressed I might add) and she had Effin off the wall in no time.

The damage is minuscule, it looks far worse in the picture. And the shelving unit hides it.

So in my tiny fractious-for-now world, order is restored once more. I wish my brain and legs would agree.

The Great Reorganization

I find I start what I think is a, well, maybe four hour job and a nightmare unfolds slowly before me extending into days.

I am glad I started this now mammoth project early enough as I am entertaining a large crowd twice in the next 10 days. This ahead of the game thing is completely unlike me, as I procrastinate until life is just about unbearable and I am a snarly, bitter mess stuffing everything into closets and under beds at the last minute. Because when I move stuff around there is always piles leftover. As if it birthed more stuff in the middle of the night when I was asleep. I mean if you haul it out to move it to a more appropriate place you should enough room for everything, right? Wrong.

I had wools everywhere. I make anyone else's stash look pathetic in comparison. So now it's all moved to the Seomra Beag (Little Room) and mighty fine it looks on its shelves moved from the main hall. Of course organizing the Little Room meant moving the sewing machine and other temporary shelving, and my antique ironing board given to me by a dear friend when I arrived in Canada first when ironing was de rigeur, pre- permanent press and fashionable wrinkles. The thing weighs a ton but I brought it out here, I couldn't part with it as she has long passed on, dead tragically young in a car accident. Everything I keep seems to have a sentimental attachment.

And I put my little round (heavy, handpainted) table in front of the window with my chair so I could dream and plot what I can do with those wools.



Then books have to be re-sorted and cardboard boxes emptied and contents distributed. So Day 3 and I am still in the process of this mammoth task but actually sensing an ending to it. Which cheers me up intensely and will allow me to focus on menus and guests which I thoroughly enjoy.

And it feels so good. Truly.