Doing the Math - Week Twelve

Due to the break, there is no math homework.

I always wanted to say that…

Mmmmm, vanilla

Working on the guest room is a nice change of pace from stirring up the frozen dust in the attic, but I still find the need for the space heater. Cheaper to run that than pay ANOTHER overpriced gas bill (the bills for last two months have extorted over $170 from us). Some of the chill comes from broken windows, which I will have to add to the list of things to do to fix the room. No big deal. OK, maybe a slightly larger deal than I let on, but I know that it will get fixed. In the meantime, the cleaning and painting is moving along nicely. Even managed to get a chuckle out of things yesterday.

See, when we went to get new paint for the room, we took along one of the curtains, as they were going to remain in the room. As stated before, I did that manly thing of holding it up against the color swatches for the Mrs. to approve choices for the room, and we picked ones that matched elements in the curtains. Who would have thunk that we would pick a color for the walls that is nearly identical to the existing color? Yeppers. I get things taped and begin to paint and discover that something didn't change. I mean, come on, this was to give things a new look, not be all same looking. Granted, it is nice to have a fresh coat of paint to cover up the evidence of little human fingers smearing God-knows-what on the walls, as well as to cover up the spackling spots where various holes were filled. But the same color? After my initial distress, I started to chuckle at the situation. Why? Because you know that if we had gone in to match the paint, we would never have accomplished it.

Still, there is one great difference that stands out. Actually, it kind of wafts out. No, not the smell of fresh paint, although the waftage did have something to do with the paint. See, as we were shopping for paint, we came across this POS display promoting a paint additive called "Paint Pourri." Keep in mind that recent olfactory memory of this room involved the combination of teenage male, pissing dogs, nasty rabbit habits, and a bit of mildew. Not pleasant. It would come as no surprise that the Mrs. and I both gave this product a closer look. Essentially, adding this to the paint made it become a "long lasting air freshener." Cool. Had all manner of smells to choose from, each with a little scratch-n-sniff spot. We chose a smell that we both could live with, one that was a favorite of the Mrs. and could be tolerate by me (allergies can be so problematic when it comes to aromas). Of course, I suppose our food bill will go up now. Want to guess the smell?

Now you see it

I figured I would give you a peek at the room of interest, so that your interest could be retained. As I stated before, we actually began to work on the second bedroom…uhm, guest room, when the last little bird was pushed over the edge of the nest. All of the carpet was yanked out, exposing some truly nasty nastiness underneath. While the "No More Dogs" proclamation might be rescinded in the future, I am quite certain the "No More Rabbits" and "No More Teenagers" proclamations will stand indefinitely.


As you can see, no room is safe from clutter, although this clutter is more worthy of existence than most around the house. Some of it is Mom's stuff which is slowly invading the place (and had better invade quicker as it has to be out of her apartment by the end of the month), and some of it is packing/shipping related, stuff that tends to relocate every time I need to send out an item that was sold. The problem is, I don't really have a different spot to put most of the stuff, so it has been necessary for me to move it to one side of the room as I work on the other. Must love dropclothes, which I'll have you know are old shower curtains. Hah! And the Mrs. thought they should be thrown away.


From this angle we see the secret closet. OK, so it's not all that secret, but it has a secret. No, not the "hiding spot for things Mom and Dad would be pissed to find" secret. The "guess where the door is" secret. If you go back and look at the attic pictures, you'll find it. Yes, I used it to separate the attic storage from the attic (un)finished. More on that later, I reckon, when I get to that room. As for the closet, I am not quite sure how it will change when all is said and done. We might be nice and let someone store things in it.


I included this picture, not so much because it shows anything truly different than the other two, but because it has a better view of what was used as the foundation for redecoration decisions. See the curtain? OK, squint hard and you might find the color scheme for the final phase. And if you think that is funny, now imagine me walking about the hardware superstore with a curtain in my hand, putting it up against the color swatches in the paint section. Required some serious chest hair ripping that day...

Executive decision

I think it's a Sheryl Crow song that says it best. "A change would do you good." After reflecting upon my bout of negativity last week, I decided to change course a bit. The causes, as usual, were numerous:

1) The whole debacle with the returning trains. It wasn't so much that they ended up returning to the clutter, but that they returned because I didn't take the time to check them out (and in the case of one of them, failed to pack things as securely as I usually do). The cost of their return also brought about poopiness, as I had spent some of the funds and had to scramble to replace it. Realizing that I had become caught up in the money, I decided to ease off the selling aspect of the project. I'll still put an item or two up as I come across them, but the effort to do so will be minimum or I won't obsess on it.

2) The attic is cold. Even a portable heater isn't all that helpful, and given that there really isn't room downstairs for all the sorting space required, I didn't feel much like hanging around shivering while I decided if anyone would benefit from my "collection" of magazines, or as I determined just how much that antique doll is worth.

3) The attic is dusty. Between the meds that dry me out, the dry winter air that aggravates the situation, and my nasty tobacco habit, my sinuses are a wreck. Just five minutes in the dust gives me a headache.

4) Mom. And her stuff.

I'm sure there are a few other factors that contributed to the sad state of mental affairs last week, but just these causes alone could drive even the most stable of people a bit off the track. So, as I stated earlier, I decided to make a change in the project direction. I decided I needed a little positive success energy, sort of like the energy derived from finishing off the entryway. Thus, the one room of One Room is no longer the attic, although I might stop up there on occasion to grab a box. No, the one room is now…the second, or 'guest' as the Mrs. has taken to calling it, bedroom.

Seemed a logical choice, actually. We had already moved out the previous resident to a college setting, and pulled up the nasty twenty-plus year old carpet. We had already discussed what we wanted to do with the room and bought the paint to redecorate. We, mostly me, just found many other things to do rather than finish up the changes to the room. Well, not any more. In fact, as I type this I have half a ceiling awaiting my paintbrush. I'm even feeling a little excitement at the thought of taking the 'after' picture to post for you (with the requisite 'before' picture) once things are finished. Almost giddy.

How's that for positive publishing?

Doing the Math - Week Eleven

A green engine with five connected train cars leaves the station from the Midwest headed for Florida. Days later, a yellow engine with three connected train cars leaves the same station headed for California. If the Florida bound train travels 1330 miles at an average speed of 55 mph, while the California bound train travels 1720 miles at an average speed of 70 mph, how much does it cost for them to return to the Midwest?

$80.

Told you the project was about the process, not the profit.

A New Day

OK, so yesterday was an example of a down day, a bad day as it were. Today is a new day, and as such, I am working on a new appreciation of what I have accomplished rather than what has gone wrong. In fact, I have the seed of a plan germinating in the fertile chaos field known as my brain. Stay tuned…

That Old Feeling…Again

If fighting the clutter weren't enough, events of the last few days have brought about the sad situation I now find myself facing. Without getting too detailed, I will share that this is one of those times when the meds aren't enough to stave off the mental demon of depression. My traditional coping behaviors (generally consisting of naps, excessive smoking, and other less attractive options), have slipped back into the daily routine. Talk about draining energy and ambition.

OK, maybe a few details.

First, the experiment of sharing our home with Mom was a disaster. The Mrs. is a saint, but even her patience was strained to the breaking point by having to deal with an uncooperative, obese retiree who is severely Passive-Aggressive. We concluded that it was best for all to have Mom move into a setting that was designed to provide the kind of care she requires. Of course, now I get to deal with explaining to her that she will not be leaving any time soon to return to her Independent Living apartment. Actually, it is more like not returning, seeing as we gave notice of her moving out. Sadly, there is a vast difference between paying the rent for an apartment and paying for 24/7 care, and there was no way to pay for both. Unfortunately, our last visit to Mom presented a challenge, in that we discovered that our expectations of quality of care and the home's provision of care don't quite match. Thanks to the small amount of time she lived with us, that option has lost any appeal whatsoever. In addition to of all of this, I also have the added responsibility of moving Mom's worldly possessions once again (which also involves figuring out where to put it all), and discovering that her pack rat skills have not decreased one bit. Two dozen used paper napkins? Oh, my goodness.

Combined with this is the sadness of recently having to issue TWO refunds for items sold on eBay™ due to damage, both issues unknown to me and one compounded by failure to anticipate the degree of torture a package can go through to get to its destination. It is difficult to explain just how much anguish it causes to recognize one's failings and how much self-anger can be accumulated in such a short time from events like this. Best fuel for depression I know. Best way to stifle motivation.

So, I'm going to go puff one off, then take a nap. Maybe when I wake up I will discover a strong supply of energy to tackle the project, and other responsibilities, with the same positive level of purpose I had when I initiated the project. I mean, anything is better than hanging out with that old feeling…again. Right?