And it’s not enough that my own personal personal life is a on the upheaval side
The hotel is ready to the point I can start cleaning/clearing out the house I live in and moving it over there. Then when this house is empty, we can clean and repaint. So it’s not enough that my life is a little schizophrenic, but my living space is, too. picayune
It is starting to get crazy. It’s a crazy place and I think it manufactures more crazy.
Dirt doesn’t bother me. It used to but it doesn;t now, just because I don;t have time in my life to keep two very large homes clean. But as this house empties, there is more just plan dirt I have to sweep/vacuum/sweep/scrub.
I’m not very tidy, either. I like to put things in boxes or baskets and then totally dismiss them from my mind. That way, when I stumble across the stuff, it’s like my birthday. In my new house, I have a ton of storage space. I have a closet large enough to park a car—there’s room for slacks and tops, outfits, dresses, shoes and handbags. I even have wooden hangers for everything.
I have a room filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves and I still fret a little that I’m not going to have room for my books. In fact, I have big bookcases in my bedroom and the kitchen and in my office and in the guestroom AND room for a chair stacked with books in the bathroom. And all of these books have to live with family photos and other bookcase stuff–like my porcelain owl, to sit with my Harry Potters. My collection of globes. PLUS, I want the same author with her own books…not the present hodge-podge, where you just jam the books on the shelves. Kitchen bookcase? Cook books. Sewing room bookshelves? Craft/ knitting/sewing books.
I’m not much of a scrubber, either. (I really like to steam things clean) and the hotel doesn;t have any of the cleaning chores I really dislike. Like scrubbing and bleaching grout? No grout. Stained carpets bug me, so we have wood floors. I hate scrubbing the kitchen floor, so I have a small kitchen. Dusting? Dual paned windows. Vacuuming? Wood floors and a Scoomba. More than one, so that would be a Scoombi. Turn them on and they clean the floors.
Surprisingly enough, I am none too flexible NOR am I the spur of the moment person I like to think I am. I need my underpants. I want a book to read. MY book—the one I am currently reading.
I don’t like noise. And if there is going to be noise, I want to be in control of it.
I don’t like people in my house, I don’t like people touching my things or invading my space.
I know that this six month long move won’t be that bad, as long as I just do a little bit at a time. But right now?
The idea is just making me crazy.