The Freckled Diaries

Progress

The hole in the floor is as fixed as it's going to be, and I believe that a new refrigerator has been ordered.  I'm still a little miffed that I could have taken care of the fridge thing on my own, overnight and possibly for cheaper but was denied but...eh.  They can do what they want to do. My poor tummy is getting really ill from all the takeout (fridge is now blocking the stove with nowhere else to go as the floor settles into it's new fixed state) and it's really frustrating to not have cold anything.  

I sprang (sprung?) my wee minions from kitty prison and they spent the afternoon running around the apartment wide eyed and jumpy as hell.  They appear to understand that this is "home", thanks largely to the presence of their cat tree, where they are both currently perched and cleaning each other.  Toby, for all of his jumpiness (he honest to god jumps at the sight of his own shadow) has actually been quite bold.  He's led the charge whenever I've opened up a new room for exploration and was the first to perch on the front windowsill and watch life go by (Penny is a bit scared of it--the busses are quite loud). He spent ages up there and I can tell it will wind up being his second favorite spot (nothing will beat the top of the cat tree though). So if you're ever on the 800 block of Prince and see a Siamese in a window say hi to dear Toby.  They neither of them appreciate having someone living above us, and whenever the neighbor walks up there they run for cover.  They'll get used to it.

Also, the report from the vet is positive.  Besides Penny's few extra pounds and the need for them to have a teeth cleaning they are both in fine health and totally up to date with everything. Go me. This is also the first time they've spent more than that one day at this new vet (which doubles as a kennel).  The reports were entirely, and overwhelmingly positive--for Penny in particular.  They said that she was just a joy to have around, and so sweet and a pleasure etc, just exactly how she is with me at home. So to all you who think she's a bitch: pbbbbth, maybe you're just mean to her (or maybe you stepped on her tail once and she hates you forever now). I was fully expecting to hear that they were all in love with Toby and that Penny "had her moments" but no. They love her and want to keep her. They loved Toby, too and said that they spent a lot of the day "talking" to each other through their cell walls and playtime cleaning and cuddling each other and coming up to the vet tech for scratches and cuddles (and Penny apparently kept crawling into her lap for tummy rubs).

Unpacking hasn't happened for a few days because I had a huge workload for school (and still do actually) but my goal is to have it all done in 10 days time, and then paint, and then hang stuff so.....2 weeks from today to be done done done?  I don't know.  We'll see what happens.

"You Look Tired"

So says the chorus of my fellow Wednesday night folks. And they are right.  I look haggard and feel like a woman twice my age. I probably grew my first gray hairs in this past week, and not from the stress...like I said that's all still relatively low level except for a few short lived freakouts.  

Did I mention that after all the refrigerator/hole in floor drama I had to go to class and along the way discovered a flat tire? If this isn't what being smited (smote?) is like, I don't know what is.

And now I'm off to sleep.  Big day tomorrow full of crushing deadlines.  October, what did I ever do to you?

Of Freezers and Floorboards

Dear Reader, 

I do believe that I am being tested.  My mother and aunt pulled the refrigerator (which, by the way, stopped working and defrosted itself leaving a puddle of water under itself) away from the wall to access the electrical outlet to plug in the microwave.  And then my mother's foot punched through the floorboard, nearly to the basement.

Years of defrosting freezers (between tenants the electricity is turned off) has rotted the wood beneath the fridge to such an extent that I personally am surprised it holds the weight of the fridge.  And it's moldy.

And because I can be...oh what's a nice word...I suppose there isn't one so let's stick with "a neurotic anxiety ridden freak", I somehow convinced myself that it was the Toxic Black Mold and not only was it going to get me sick but it was going to kill the kitties upon their return from kitty prison.  I tried calling the lady that my vacationing landlords put in charge and her response was that they'll be back on the 10th.  Immediately the panic spiral started, and calls to mold experts, tears and eventually stress induced vomit.  Fun times.  

I called her back reiterating just how bad it is, and that I couldn't stay there that night and to please, please do something.  So she's sending the handyman today and I spent the night at my Uncle Terry and Aunt Karen's house, where I remain this morning, doing schoolwork and waiting for the call saying that the handyman is on his way.

So that's that.  Hooray.

Moving Update

Well, it's mostly done, the moving part anyway.  Everything went mostly smoothly except for the procuring of moving boxes which was.....well, the less said about that night the better.  Overall, the vast, vast majority of the time on a scale of 0 to 100, my stress level generally stayed between say, a 2 and a 7.  Except for when it wasn't, at which points it was at a level of roughly 847, complete with public meltdown and verbal familial abuse and the arrival at the conclusion that I'd just rather burn all my stuff and start over again (this was the boxes night). Not my best moment.

I'd say the new house is about 40% unpacked already, and the furniture is more-or-less in the positions I'm going to keep it in.  I absolutely cannot stand my new kitchen--it's just a terrible terrible layout and a huge headache to unpack and organize.  That, and all the cords which I will address in a moment, are what made it quitting time last night.  Today we're going to move some things around, go to the hardware store and rig something for pots and pans, and possibly buy a dining room hutch to store my dishes because their current location necessitates a step ladder and the spine-unfriendly reach and twist and lift.  It's just a nightmare.

Now to the cords.  I hate cords.  They are everywhere and I swear they breed. I don't know what most of them go to and they get all tangled and bunched and are just little balls of stress and I just can't stand them.  Now, I'm going to figure out which I need and which I don't and either put them to use or throw them out.  Once that is accomplished, the following policy will be in effect: If you bring a cord into my house, I will strangle you with it and then use it to hang you from my doorway as a warning to others who may think I need an extension cord/longer cable/wireless router (which...irony?  to set up a wireless network you need THREE wires attached to your computer tangling their way around your ankles).  THIS is the warning, there will be no more.

Beyond the box drama, the impossible kitchen and the cord freakout things are going just fine. Boxes are being opened, emptied and their contents (mostly) put away. I'm finding that, apparently, I haven't looked into some bags/boxes since the last move (3 years ago), which is....odd.  I'm trying to get used to the new sounds that come with this place (pipes, neighbors, creeks, cars etc).  It's an odd time, the first few days in a new house.

Oh, and you may be pleased (?) to know that I still have the Scariest Basement in America. It's a whole other beast than the one at 216 Prince. Funny video of me influencing my cousin to check it out down there will follow one of these days, if the camera cord hasn't been eaten by the other ones.

Books and Moving Galore

So it's that time.  Yes, finally after nearly two full months of trouble and strife (and three years of living in this apartment), I'm packing up and moving out.  I still have mixed feelings on the subject but won't linger too long on the bad because honestly I have the night before Christmas feeling about the whole deal--I'm really looking forward to the new place.  I suppose my desire to stay is tied up with a lot of "ifs".  If my neighbors didn't suck, if my landlord wasn't a jerk (I didn't like the neighbors or the landlord for a good long while before all this), if a whole bunch of other things.  Basically, I love this physical space and geographic location but I really don't like all the BS that comes along with it.

So anyway.  Moving.  Sunday is packing day, Monday is moving day. 

Today is a busy day that I'm going to have to get done on no sleep (I'm a difficult sleeper to begin with--stress and an almost totally flexible work and school schedule does nothing to help that fact).  I have to: drop the kitties off at the vet where they will remain until about Thursday (depending on how fast I get the place painted).  I also want to meet with the vet about various and sundry issues I have--namely the fact that she's now terrified me that I've gone and given them heartworm and I'm scared and that they are due for a teeth cleaning but I'm scared of anesthesia which is apparently necessary for the teeth cleaning experience.  Then, I'm off to the National Book Festival which (a) I want to go to because a favorite author of mine is going to be there and (b) I have to go for a class assignment (long story from History of the Book and author-reader interactions and public performances of literary works etc).  That's from 10-2.  At 3 or so, my mom will be in town and we're going to get packing supplies and bring them on up here.  I then plan to attack my desk drawers and my pile of Very Important Mail. 

Then I move, then I unpack and paint, then hang stuff and then my life is back to normal.  Oh and I have two assignments for school due next week.  Joy.

More on books.....

Last night, I went to what I dubbed the "nerdiest of nerd events", the Washington Rare Book Group's "Rare Book Roadshow", which is basically Antiques Roadshow but for rare books and produced for Book Guys--NPR's book show.  I'm not entirely sure I could have made that sentence nerdier if I tried.  We all know that I mean nerd in it's jovial, positive connotation, right?  Let's hope.  Anyway....it was good fun, honestly.  I didn't bring a book of my own for two reasons really:  first, I'd kind of automatically figured that I didn't have anything worth bringing and didn't want to look like the dumb girl who just brought any old or dusty book wanting to hear that it was worth a fortune.  Second, if I had given it a second thought I may have brought a book just in case but was highly distracted because I was busy straightening up for and then making a YouTube video of my (currently dusty and cluttered) apartment.  It's as good as it's going to get--and I even ventured down into scary, scary basement! 

Anyway, about the Rare Book Roadshow--it was really a good time and I met some good people, heard some good stories and got to hang out after-hours in the National Museum of Natural History (which is where we met).  No one else from my class went which was a little surprising because people seemed really into the idea but that's their loss I guess. 

And finally, before we get to the YouTube links, oh! Dear Reader, there is much else going on in my little world and I'm kind of stupidly giddy about the whole thing but I don't really dare write much more because...well I don't know why. But, :)

So here's the apartment in all it's hastily spruced up from the moving mess glory (and scary scary basement):

Update time!

Oops, it's been nearly a week since I've updated. And I'm going to stop whining. Even with all the packing/moving headaches and the Bastard Landlord this situation has really resolved beautifully and I got more or less exactly what I wanted anyway so....yeah. There's lots and lots to do and iI just want this DONE already (and that's been the recent overwhelming part) but I'm doing it and I'm just going to shutup about it and plod on.  At least that's the plan--no promises :). So, What's been happening besides housing freakout?

For starters, it would appear that almost everyone I've ever known was born in mid-September and I've had the accompanying rash of birthday parties to attend, which have all been great fun (one maybe a little too fun).

I've also been mentally decorating and redecorating the new apartment which is kind of giving me a headache (and is one of the reasons I just want to have this done with already so the fun can begin).

The kitties spent the day at the vet on Thursday because they needed shots and checkups and because I wanted to keep them away from potential open windows...the painters came on Friday anyway, go figure.  They woke us up at the crack of freaking dawn, too!  I spent the morning doing schoolwork in this room (the den?  the library?  I never really figured out what to call it) and kept the kits locked up in here with me.  They did not enjoy the presence of the painters one bit and kept running up to me with saucer-sized eyes whenever a loud noise happened.  Poor dears.  The vet sent me on a bit of a guilt trip over some feline health issues but it's nothing I haven't been aware of.  I'm just going to redouble my efforts on the feline front.

What else?  School.  Work.  Work is "eh", I need a new job.  Research assistantship is just so not my game.  I've applied to a few different things at National Archives, Library of Congress, Legislative Resource Center and American History Museum's Archives Center but those are all kind of random shot in the dark kind of applications.  They are all what appear to be lower-level Bachelor's only required positions, but who knows?  And also who knows if they'd be willing to hire a student who needs flextime to go to class?  I truly don't know if I'm way over or way under qualified for the positions and don't expect to hear back.  But it would be nice to be surprised :)

School in Scotland is on the back burner for now, as I've been reminded of the little deal I struck with my dad in exchange for tuition.  Bummer.  But the option remains, and hopefully I'll gain employment someplace that really wants me to go and get the degree at their expense.  A girl can dream, right?  But really, I may wind up there this summer for a class anyway (it's still in the works--my professor is still getting funding/permission) and I think I'll investigate the option of getting this certain kind of work visa for people getting professional training for after graduation.  I think it's largely a matter of finding a place to sponsor said professional training.  So here's hoping we get the funding for the museums and librarianship class in Scotland this summer.  Birds, meet stones :)   The end of this story is that I am determined to move to the UK, and specifically Edinburgh if I have my way, at some point in the midpoint future (5 year plan).

What else?  School in general rocks, readings, classes, field trips, assignments...all.  Just having fun with it all.  Blissful :)

Finally, the futon.  What can I say?  I now have like 20 swatches and none of them really "work".  I'm just waiting for the move, and until I pick out the new paint color. This whole futon thing really is taking on epic proportions. What I really want is this:

But that's just not going to happen anytime soon.

So, that's life.  And just in case I haven't said it enough, I cannot freaking wait for this move to be over.  Maybe I'll take video before I leave to show an old vs new apartment thing.  But be warned: I'm not going to be cleaning first and this place is moving mess spectacular now that the painters are gone!

Better or Worse?

Feeling a bit better about the whole horribleness but do really wish I could have just had this over and done with like a band aid.  Made executive decision: everything is being organized as it's being UNpacked because (a) ground floor vs 4th floor (b) no time constraints besides own desire to unpack (c) mother and friends and more family helping on the unpacking side (d) the movers are a flat rate anyway, so who really cares?  Made further executive decision: if landlords/painters are here and the place is full of dust bunnies and untidy piles of mail and clothes: who cares?  Let them think I live in a sty.  It's not entirely possible for them to think less of me now anyway.  With any luck they'll be allergic to cats.

Also, long long long story that you're best just getting from me directly but a former/still kinda current big muckity muck in town happened by our Wednesday Night Hangout (a group of us loosely affiliated with the Ballyshanners and the pub in general who go out just to chill and drink and talk on Wednesdays).  He's long been friends with the owner of the pub but has recently been a bit of a no-show for a variety of reasons. I'm not so into naming names here but basically---pretty big, old family in town and used to have considerable political power (could only have been more if he was the mayor himself). 

We were talking, he mentioned an address which is near my new place, and I told him I'm about to move around the corner.  We talked about where I live currently and the (extremely abbreviated) circumstances of my moving and without missing a beat he guessed the name of the landlord due almost entirely to the bizarre behavior.  He suggested that there may be more to the story than I know, but he wouldn't be surprised either way. I know better than to say anything mean to or about anyone with any measurable power so I just said "hey, that's the danger of renting, it's upsetting but that's life and I'm just glad I got another nice place" but it made me happy.  It made me happier that he suggested a letter to the editor and certain bureaucratic grievance channels, if for no other reason than to be a bee in the bonnet but I won't do either.  It's just not worth my time, plus I know better than to aggravate the rich, powerful and well connected.

I just can't wait for my new place and I really hope that I don't miss it here too terribly.

I seriously doubt that I'm going to pull this move off.  This is a completely baseless fear, because I do have a lot of help, hired and otherwise and this is (despite my frequent complaints to the contrary) a fairly well-ordered and relatively clutter free home (relative to my proclivity for accumulating and saving stuff). 

But tonight I feel incompetent and small and scared and alone and just overwhelmed.

And dear fellow LSC 557 classmates: I can be cranky, and for that I apologize. But that article really was stupid.  First of all, librarianship as a profession does not have a mandate to promote "life liberty and the pursuit of happiness". It just doesn't, I'm sorry.  And the author completely misses the point on where that phrase came from in the first place.  Those things, at least according to a basic understanding of what is probably the definitive and most fundamental concept of American social and political life and perhaps the basis of Western civilization itself, come from the creator, not librarians, and to secure those rights (not to give because they have already been given by the aforementioned creator), governments are instituted among men.  Not libraries.  Governments.  Good god people.  How am I still cranky about this?

I'm such a mess

So.

I woke up to a call from the landlord's office telling me that there is some general maintenance needed on the building (no kidding this place is starting to rot from the outside in) including painting the exterior window trim.  Part of me wonders if my mother ever did call the historical society and complain about the state of this place like she kept threatening to do, and I kept telling her NOT to because yes while I'm angry and I have a vindictive side to me (or well, ok, I am just a vindictive bitch), I'm not stupid and I just plain old can't afford to piss these people off any more than I already have.  Now, I don't know the historical society rules but if they include things like not allowing a building to crumble, I think they are probably in violation.  But I'm no fool.  Someone will figure it out eventually and it won't be because of me.

Anyway.

So.  Basically to be able to paint the window trim they need to come into my apartment, open the windows (by removing the air conditioners first, fun fun) and paint. 

This means that (a) landlord affiliated people in my apartment which no one ever likes under the best of circumstances and (b) open windows plus kitties. Even better is that they'll be here on "Thursday, Friday or Monday".

I've made arrangements for the kitties, I'm not taking any chances on my babies.  But now I have to clean and organize because I don't want them to have any satisfaction in the suspicion that they're well to get rid of me, the messy slob of a tenant I am.  Under normal circumstances, it's a moderately untidy, lived in apartment.  Under bi-weekly circumstances is an outright messy apartment which is eventually fixed. I could probably handle the thought of them seeing the moderately untidy or even the outright messy.  But this, this "moving mess" (combination of my pre-move organization efforts and my depression-induced apathy toward all things domestic) is just unacceptable. 

And so now, in a frenzy of cleaning I did two things:  I opened up the long term storage closet which doubles as a Christmas ornament repository and computer graveyard, and I finally, finally moved Mount St. Laundry (the whole shebang, baskets and all).  To illustrate how permanent of a fixture the never ending cycle of dreaded housework is...my cat spent about 30 seconds investigating the closet (which is opened maybe three times per year) but is still, nearly 5 minutes later, fascinated by the newly open space that was the laundry area.  I almost feel guilty for denying him a cozy corner all this time.

And honestly, WHY NOW on the painting?  Seriously, folks.  Can't this wait like, oh 12 days? I'm trying not to be suspicious but my more paranoid nature doesn't think so.  I moved in here 3 years ago Friday and this is the first time I've even heard of exterior maintenance on this place.  Grr.

"Corduroy Mansions could not be described as being in good order but at least it did not appear to be falling down.

"This old place suits me," remarked William to his friend Marcia. "It’s like an old glove, familiar and comfortable." "

Sigh. That's this place, too.  But the future place (2 weeks from today) as well.  Or so I hope.

That's an excerpt from the second installment of Alexander McCall Smith's newest literary venture: Corduroy Mansions.

Brief background here: he's an author, born in Zimbabwe when it was still Southern Rhodesia to Scots parents.  He eventually became a lawyer and taught law at the University of Botswana.  He now lives in Scotland and in 2002 or 2003 (I don't remember) began a series entitled The Number One Ladies' Detective Agency, set in Botswana*.  He then started the Sunday Philosophy Club series, which takes place in Edinburgh, he had a series of short stories I never read and whose name I forget, and he has a children's series.  He captures place and mood exquisitely, in my opinion, and his characters are charming and subtle and like old friends.  He also obviously loves his characters and his readers and places little literary winks at them/us in his books.

By far, the most interesting and most endearing series to me (although the Botswana series will always have a special place in my heart) is 44 Scotland Street.  It is a novel which was started in 2004 and was published in daily installments in The Scotsman newspaper.  It was originally a bit of a bet, or experiment but it proved so popular and McCall Smith enjoyed writing it so much it continued for years, and it's published in bound volumes.  There are five now I believe, although we in the US only have three.  The forth is coming out in two weeks and we'll just have to wait for the fifth.  You could only read the 44 Scotland Street series in the paper edition of The Scotsman. 

Now, however, he is taking a break from 44 Scotland Street and has started a new daily serialized novel, Corduroy Mansions.  It seems as if it will be very similar to 44 Scotland Street in that it takes place in a small apartment building and the novel will follow the lives of the residents, but this time in London not Edinburgh.  Not a terribly original idea for a novel, and a serialized one at that, but McCall Smith's strength is in character development and his amazing ability to truly capture the sense of a very particular time and place.  It is available for free on The Telegraph Online and on an iTunes podcast (excellent for those auditory-learners among us).

What is particularly interesting, especially for those currently enrolled in a graduate level class that deals with these sorts of things, is that it's being described as a "digital novel" which is thoroughly modern but which also uses a very long established literary practice (although it's been out of vogue for some time--that of the serialized novel being written as-it-goes, allowing for feedback and input from the readers.  But now in the digital age, it's on a much larger scale than Dickens overhearing the public worrying about the fate of Little Nell and responding to that in his next installment.  It's instant, it's broad reaching, and it should be very interesting.  I also find it interesting that he brings up the role of fan fiction type novels in his article introducing the series. 

It's just all around an interesting day in the history of the book.

I'd encourage anyone, interested in book history or no, to at least check it out.   So far it seems just like him--charming, witty, cozy, and fun.

*Edited to say, he wrote it in 1998 but it was not published in the United States until 2002.