So, it's been a rough few weeks for me, energy-wise. As in "I've used more energy than what I had stored and now I'm running on fumes that are rapidly drifting away". I had things to do. Sometimes, especially when you live alone, you just have to do things.
Since I've had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome it's rare to
feel like I have 'enough' energy. For anything. A shower. A trip to the
grocery store. A visit with friends. Most of what I do is done in short
spurts - 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there, with lots resting in between.
Sometimes a shower requires a rest afterwards. A trip to the store
requires a very long rest afterwards and I sometimes don't feel back to
my new 'normal' until the next day or the day after. Sometimes things
just don't get done.
Other days, I'll (think) I have the
energy to start a job and finish it - like painting my kitchen door on
both sides. So a few weeks ago I bought the paint - blue for the
outside, white for the inside. Made sure the door was clean. Applied the
paint to the inside first. Whoops! Applied the wrong paint (I used the
flat exterior trim I'd bought for something else). Ok. I'll pretend
it's primer. Repainted with the satin. Uh-oh. It's looked flat, too.
Called my brother, got instructions. Sanded with 120 grit paper. Wiped
with a tack cloth. Repainted. Finish was still flat. Added another coat
the next day. Got tired. Door is still there, finish is still flat and
I'm getting used to it. I finally took the painters tape off after about
I got up the energy (I thought) a couple of days later
to paint the exterior. I was told the door had primer on when I bought
it, so I applied the beautiful blue latex satin paint directly to the
metal door. It was pretty streaky. So, I applied a second, then a third
coat and it looked beautiful!! Until 4 hours later when I removed the
painter's tape and all the stretchy latex paint pulled off with it in
big huge rubbery sheets. Except for the parts that had to be scraped
off with an old credit card. I'm getting used to the door being white.
And now I have a blue gate.
Speaking of which, there are
days, like today, when I decide that no matter how awful I feel I'm
going to tackle that simple little project I've been putting off for
weeks. All I wanted to do was put a colorful pull handle on my pretty
blue gate. The gate itself is a long story - made by a handyman who was
clearly not handy - but at least it's now a pretty color and deserving
of a pretty pull. After all, it's simple! It's easy! How long could it take? How hard
could it be? It probably would have been a 5 minute job if I'd had the
right size drill bit, a long enough cord for the drill, a drill that
didn't stop every 1/4", and if I hadn't had to sit down and rest every time the drill stalled.
Lessons learned today: Don't use a drill when tired.
Don't assume you can drill to hole level without measuring. Don't forget
to look at the back-side of where you will be drilling. Buy a new drill.
The good news: It may be crooked, but it works and it's festive!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Between my tendency to over-shop, my hatred of housekeeping, my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia and lack of ability to make quick decisions anymore, all the 'stuff' has stuffed my house to its limits (actually, I could fit a lot more in here, but MY limits have been reached). I'm tired of not being able to find things. Who knows how many rolls of tape, pens, tubes of Neosporin, and scissors I've bought over the years, only to suddenly find 5 rolls of tape after the package is wrapped? I don't need to try every brand of shampoo sold on QVC, or own any more jewelery, pans, or clothes that might fit me when I lose some weight.
I'm tired of nearly breaking my neck walking through the house - it's bad enough the 3 dogs and 3 cats own the floor, but throw a couple of bags of recyclables into the mix and it's a true obstacle course. And who can clean when there all this 'stuff' in the way? I want to love my home again and feel comfortable instead of frustrated at every turn.
So, I decided to bite the bullet and I hired an organizer to come in and help me decide what to do with the good, the bad and the ugly. She'll be here Saturday. I told her I need someone who is compassionate but firm, who will understand if my energy fails and I have to 'work' laying down. She will. She'll help me really figure out what to keep and where it will go. I don't want to keep something because its cute, but unusable; not because it might fit 'someday'; not because I don't want to hurt some one's feelings (like dead people? Come on, Mary!!) - but because I need it, love it, will use it, etc.) Kind of like a normal person would do.
I'm having some real mixed feelings about it - it kind of reminds me of when I quit smoking back on 10/30/2000. Will I like this 'new life'? Will it last? Will I be sorry I did it? Will I miss all my stuff? I'm prepared for the worst, hoping for the best.
The first thing I'm going to do when she and I are done (and it may take more than one or two sessions) is hire someone to come in and clean it top to bottom - even things like the tops of the door jambs, baseboards, all that stuff that doesn't get done when you hate housework or are too sick to take care of more than just the basics.
Finally, I am going to sit back and enjoy the beauty of my home. I've got some great art work here, some beautiful furniture, all sorts of nice things that are hard to appreciate now. It'll be good.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I have a love/hate relationship with Summer. I really, really, dislike the heat - it makes me feel sick, and sweaty, and cranky and I don't like being any of those things. But I love how my garden looks. I love sitting in the yard in the early evenings, watching the hummingbirds come to feed, smelling the remains of the hot day being cooled off by the water as I soak the drooping plants. The pond fountain makes music, accompanied by the frogs, that soothes my soul. I love the sound of the neighbor kids playing in their pool, and love the smell of BBQ their dad makes most nights. I love watching my dogs enjoy the mud and the fresh air. The cats enjoy it, too, if they sneak out. They love rolling on the warm patio.
Some of my best memories of Summer include playing in the water at the One Mile Dam in Chico while visiting my grandparents, eating the apricots that had fallen from Granny's trees and into the cool grass. We lived close to the San Francisco, so it would often cool off nicely in the evenings. I love that my dad would line soda bottles up along the base of the screen door so the we could keep it open at night without the fear of burglars coming in (theory was that they would be scared away by the crashing bottles if they tried to open the screen door). Back then that was all it took for us to feel safe and well-cared for. Simple times.
I think Summer, in general, is simpler - slower paced, less hustle and bustle. Maybe it's just too hot to move fast, but it's better. I like slow.