random thoughts – Day 1,635 – (Sunday) – rug work and kiki-proofing

Sunday as a day of rest has never really taken hold at my house. I tend to loaf off most of the day on Saturday and then make up for it by tackling a bunch of things on Sunday. Plus, Monday is trash pickup day, so it seems to make sense to vacuum and empty the canister. There is the litter box cleaning, refrigerator sweep, emptying of various small wastebaskets, and the rolling of the trash bin to the curb

Back in place.

Today involved some additional hard labor in the bedroom when I finally got around to Kiki-proofing the box spring and repositioning the rug. It occurred to me a month or so ago that a deep pocket fitted sheet on the underside of the box spring should fix the problem of the tattered fabric allowing easy access into the framework. Stapling the fabric had been considered, but the stapler doesn't open up to allow stapling on a flat surface, and the nonwoven material is shredded and disintegrated beyond repair from the frequent movement of under bed storage boxes being slid out and back. 

And suddenly, today, there I was, finally doing the thing. It required tipping the mattress on its side, then flipping the box spring on its side to put the sheet on. The rug adjustment project was to fix the position of the area rug that sits on top of the vivid blood colored wall-to-wall carpeting and somehow manages to shift a good six to eight inches across the floor while the bed is on top of it. It’s another one of life’s mysteries. That required stacking the two plastic lidded boxes and the several plastic storage bags in the only place available, which happened to be in front of the door, essentially barricading myself in the room for the duration, which was one way to make sure the job was finished.

To adjust the area rug involved rolling one edge of the rug up to the edge of the bed, then grabbing it from the free edge and yanking it in the direction needed. It took a lot of yanks to get it where it belongs. While the rung was rolled, the carpet underneath was vacuumed. While the box spring and mattress were off the frame, the area under the bed got a good vacuuming.

When the rug situation was finally resolved, the mattress was rotated 180-degrees. It is one of those pillow-top things that can’t be flipped, so the head to foot rotation is the extent of it, and it’s really a two-person task. The whole project is a lot faster as a two-person task, and I have a newly-reinforced admiration for mattress delivery people, maids, and anyone who does this sort of thing on the regular. It was a workout. There was sweat involved, which didn’t even happen when I was going to the gym. Later, the freshly laundered sheets were returned to the bed, which felt like child’s play after the earlier labor.

Now, I need to prepare for Kiki’s next foray into the bedroom, because she is likely going to be an unhappy little camper when she tries to crawl up into the box spring and is blocked by the tan cotton sheet that was definitely not there before. It will not be a pretty day.

random thoughts – Day 1,634 – (Saturday) – didn't and did

Good job, flowers!

It was a day filled with promise and opportunity. A morning dance rehearsal was cancelled, freeing up three hours of travel and practicing and basically opening up the entire day. 

Entertainment options included Open Studios at Western Ave Studios, a themed market at Mill No. 5, the launch of the latest issue of a literary magazine at The Luna Theater (located in Mill No. 5), the Lowell Multicultural Festival at City Hall Plaza, and Dracut Old Home Days, just to name a few. It would have been possible to park downtown and walk to the Multicultural Festival, the magazine launch, and the market. 

I dressed as if I would leave the house and mingle with humanity, meaning, shirt and pants were in colors that coordinated and I thought it didn't look like I had just rolled out of bed. Then I decided it would be sensible and practical to eat lunch first, seeing as breakfast had been skipped. That turned into a kitchen adventure of fancying up a can of spaghetti sauce with sauteed onion, mushroom, and garlic, plus Italian spices and Portabello mushroom vegetarian meatballs. This was poured over mini spinach and cheese mini ravioli and topped with shredded parmesan. Then the pots were washed by hand. 

You can likely guess what happened next and which of these many options I did. That’s right, kiddos, none of them. Not a single one. But I thought about each of them quite a lot. I imagined navigating a crowded and lively festival or the massive Western Ave complex, alone. Visiting the shopping market and the magazine launch where I knew nobody, alone. Driving to Nashua to attend the Egyptian food event, alone. There was the possibility of trying to talk myself out of spending money on things I like but don't have room for. And I did nothing, at home, also alone, but without the driving, temptation to spend, and feeling alone in a crowd.

So delicate!

The glass in the two storm doors on the porch were cleaned. The flowers in the front yard were visited and encouraged in their growth journey by me saying things like "good job, keep it up." Some light and lovely fluff from some weedy plant pods were found delicately balanced in the rose bush and photographed. 

Mostly, though, it was hours of mindless scrolling on my phone and playing Woodoku. A Korean drama on Netflix was started (Poong, the Joseon Psychiatrist) which made me think want kim-bap from the shop on Lakeview that I haven’t been to in ages. Instead of driving over, I checked the website which listed them as “temporarily closed.” It’s pure crap luck that just a couple months after they opened, the section of the major street they are located on was closed for a culvert project and getting to any of the businesses on that block was a confusing challenge.

Market Basket was visited instead, to see if the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream is still $3.50 (it is). And for some mayonnaise that I keep forgetting to buy, plus potato chips (why not?), spanikopita twirls for lunches, and sliced cheese because the current reserves in the freezer are slabs too thick to be practical in a sandwich. It’s probably not hard to guess that supper was potato chips and Phish Food ice cream. Some of the ice cream was soft enough from its grand tour of the store in search of peeled hard-boiled eggs and canned black beans before checking out that it worked as chip dip. Delicious!

For the evening’s entertainment, it’s the K-drama and wooing of Kiki where I tell her how wonderful she is and hand feed her treats and keep inviting her up on the couch in the hope she will then move to my lap. So far, she’s a huge fan of the treats and not at all interested in the couch, but when I call her name, she very often comes to me, and that feels like a victory.

random thoughts – Day 1,633 – (Friday) – ugh day

Evening birds with  no gutter access.

After a short and blissfully quick three days of the short holiday workweek, work day four was one of those days that felt like a month. And it wasn’t a slow and leisurely long day, it was packed with annoyances from start to finish that really put the ugh in rough. 

The minute I logged on to the computer at the office, a non-stop stretch of annoyances was launched. The first program needed required a sudden password reset. Of course, the password criteria are the length of a novel and can’t resemble any of the passwords already used in the past eight years.

There were annoyance edits on an ad that weren’t actually edits and were more philosophical commentary that served to do nothing more than delay the project unnecessarily.

There were more edits on another project that has already had so many revisions that the numbering system for versions was abandoned by the designer and letters were adopted instead. We’re up to version JJ at this point. If I suddenly keel over from a heart attack, feel free to blame the product comparison charts. Or passwords.

There was a short-notice ad request – with short being “we need this now” for an ad in an odd size for an event we haven’t sponsored before and an organization that still wasn’t clear even after three rounds of emails. This wasn’t even the banker making the request’s fault – it was delays from the organization that needs the check yesterday and the ad in five minutes. Please help us to help you, for crying out loud. It might actually be an obscenely short-notice ad request that kills me.

There was an abrasively worded email from a program admin, chewing out a list of us for not having signed into some program for months and giving us a deadline of 1:00 today to do so. I didn’t know I was set up on the program, and even better, have no idea what the program does, but I seem to be in trouble for not logging into it. And when I tried to log in today, after jumping through a few hoops to have the password I didn’t know I had reset, it turns out I can’t actually log into the program from my office computer until IT does something to it first.

Kiki coming in for some love.

Of course, the ad, the login, and a few other things that needed immediate attention were happening simultaneously, and not a single one of them was on my to-do list for the week, which was completely neglected today. 

To add to the fun it was cold in the office and I wore my jean jacket over a shirt and sweater most of the day. By 3:00 my head was pounding, especially after I accidentally logged myself out of a program I wasn't done with, which requires multifactor authentication through an app that doesn't refresh. Three times. At 5:00 I could not get away from this work day quickly enough.

At home, confused birds were scratching on the newly installed gutter filter screens that now cover the gutters they used to use as a playground. I feel a bit sad about that. I'm imagining their suddenly blocked access is the avian equivalent of my password issues.

Inside, Kiki was feeling affectionate and erased all the stress. She was chattier than usual and wanted to be petted and I was happy to play along. She is a good distraction from the stupid home laptop touchpad that is acting up. Thank you sweet Keeks, for salvaging all the crazy ugh days. 

random thoughts – Day 1,632 – (Thursday) – (re)intro

Early ballet days.

As a six-year-old first grader, I was introduced to ballet. Mom and Mummu thought it was a good idea. (It was.) The Alice Corliss Dance School was chosen because it was close to where we were living and also close to where Mummu lived. This was a consideration back in the days when families had only one car and had to walk to a lot of places.

There was one year we were ducks in the recital and wore white bodysuits with yellow net tails and felt beaks on our heads. There was a year or two when we wore a green costume with red roses all over it. In all the years I took ballet as a kid (first through twelfth grade) we had formal photos done only once. The only other dance photos in existence are those taken by family, usually blurry and with our heads cut off.

The dance school also taught tap and jazz. I wasn’t allowed to take tap because Mom, who was a drummer in school and practiced on the woodwork at home to annoy Mummu, said tap was “too noisy.” When I was older (third or fourth grade) I also took jazz. Our costume had a long fringe of metallic gold that looked like Christmas tree icicles. 

Last week, after years (no lie, YEARS) of looking for ballet classes for adults that weren’t “Mommy and Me,” absolute beginner, or professional level, a sponsored post showed up in my Facebook feed for an adult ballet class called “(re)intro to ballet for adults.” Bingo and hallelujah, we finally have a winner!

The best part was, the class was starting in a few days so I didn’t have much time to talk myself out of it. It’s only five weeks long, so it’s not a major life commitment. After thinking about it for a day or two, and deliberating on the realities of driving to Wayland for a class, on Labor Day, I enrolled online.

Footwear contenders for dance class.

Tonight was the first class. I barely had time to dig out my old dance shoes. And by “old,” I mean, last used in the last century, therefore, practically old enough to qualify as a museum exhibit. (Packrat, much?) 

The jazz flats, leather ballet slippers, and a totally broken pair of pointe shoes that I used to wear as classroom ballet shoes were unearthed and tossed into a bag to go to class. The character shoes and satin pointe shoes were not taken out for this little experiment.

There are lots of fresh new ballet slippers available from sellers online, but the problem that I remember from when I used to buy them regularly, is that dance shoe sizes are not the same as street shoe sizes, and vary between brands. I can't find anything in the brand of my old slippers to get the same size and brand. It could be a real crap shoot ordering online, where most of the customer comments and returns are related to size. I might benefit from finding some in a brick and mortar store. Or, as a more practical, economical matter, sewing some new elastics onto the ones I already have.

The class was fun. Not rollicking, rowdy, fun. It was more like, hey my brain remembers the names of these movements and my body still remembers how to do this and I didn’t die fun. I ended up wearing the soft leather ballet slippers with the stretched out elastics. There might be some muscles screaming at me tomorrow, but so far, so good. I'm looking forward to going back next week.

random thoughts – Day 1,631 – (Wednesday) – cat training

Sneaky Kiki is really honing her skills. She has the timing down and seems to know the precise moment when I  relax and fall into the web she has spun in which to trap me with a sense of calm and safety.

Back in the box spring again.

On Monday, she apparently detected my sense of comfort/false belief that she had lost interest in the box spring. She laid the trap and lured me in after she hadn’t even ascended the staircase to the landing in weeks. 

Kiki slipped upstairs like a ninja while I drank coffee and read a book. She hung out in the box spring all day, safely barricaded in her self-imposed exile, out of my reach. It was nighttime when she eventually left her palace of peace and I was able to trot upstairs and close the door. The look I got from her when I came back downstairs was priceless.

This morning, after spending the night downstairs while I slumbered behind the closed door, Kiki tricked me again. Unbeknownst to me, she was outside the bedroom door when I opened it. As the door swung open for me to leave the room, I spotted her as she crouched and slithered in like a panther. She even paused halfway across the room and turned to look at me over her shoulder as if to say "ha! just try and catch me!" before completing her journey to the far side of the bed and slipping back into the box spring. She was still there when I left for work.

Cobblestone work underway.

Work was quiet and productive. There was the weekly team meeting. There was my microwaved lunch of rice and leftover sautéed vegetables. There was an afternoon walk in the sunshine, past the crew busy resetting the cobblestones at the Merrimack end of Shattuck Street. 

As I headed to the canal, concrete barriers sat in a parking lot, lined up like dominoes. Downtown has cobblestones, canals, concrete barriers, and brick. So much brick.

After work, there was no sign of Kiki. She will come out when she comes out, probably around 10:00. That's the hour when she generally comes to meow at me until I give her treats and head rubs before I go upstairs to bed. It may not be possible to train a cat, but Keeks the cat definitely has me trained.

random thoughts – Day 1,630 – (Tuesday) – downloads and downtown

 Despite some quirks with work, it was an overall good day. The only real annoyance was that it took forever to download portrait files from last week’s photo shoot. They all automatically dump into a download folder rather quickly and automatically, but they need to live on the department drive, which takes a ridiculously long time to do. Today's files took more than two hours to execute. Half the photo subjects haven't made their choices yet, so there is still a part two to look forward to. Ugh. Can't wait.

Broken box. Bummer.

While the computer was tied up doing the move of massive-size files, a truck was running outside for longer than usual. It was a Prime delivery truck, idling at the end of the street, blocking the neighbor’s driveway. Finally, a door slid open and a driver emerged, carrying a large box topped by a smaller box.

Halfway across the neighbor’s front yard, the bottom failed on the bottom box and the contents were downloaded onto the the lawn. Based on the crappy taping on my recent deliveries including the box that recently arrived with 16 pounds of cat food that nearly downloaded on my porch, I wasn’t really surprised. I felt for the driver, who seemed both annoyed and flustered. 

Slow files are annoying, but not nearly as bad as what that poor driver seemed to be going through, having to re-stuff the box with ten miles of brown crunched up paper plus several items that were previously inside the box. Then, when he tried to pick it up again, it looked like it might collapse all over again. It was kind of funny, but only because it wasn't my stuff. 

The file move finished at about three minutes before 5:00. It was just in time for me to start closing files and get ready to sign off the computer for the day.

Harmonious colors.

First Tuesday of the month means book club, so I didn’t have to deal with thinking about supper. As I was preparing to leave for downtown, I noticed that my purse and the book’s cover coordinated nicely with each other and the chair cover on the kitchen chairs and even the wall color in the kitchen. At book club, someone pointed out that my nail polish also coordinated. It seemed like a carefully curated moment suited for a Hallmark movie or a decorating show, but it was mostly a coincidence.

We all liked the book, Shark Heart, by Emily Habeck. We were seated outside, and enjoyed the sunshine and nice air for likely the last time for a few months. Soon, the tables, chairs, and concrete barriers will be collected and stored for the winter.

random thoughts – Day 1,629 – (Monday) – labor day 2024

The Labor Day holiday was equal parts leisure and labor, with a dash of mystery. There was no plan (as usual) except to read the book for Book Club tomorrow night. The morning included coffee, the reading of news, social media, and the book. There was a brief glimmer of an idea to mount and matt some recently printed photos.

There was vacuuming and the cleaning of the litter box. Weeds were pulled. Trash was bagged and the bin rolled to the curb for pickup tomorrow. The dishwasher was emptied. The yard was mowed. The chores were done during pauses in Netflix shows.

The temptress, one day last week.

Meanwhile, Kiki, who has lulled me into another false sense of security with all her coy meows and stretches on the living room rug, and requests for head rubs, slipped off for an outlaw holiday at Camp BoxSpring. Mid-morning, as I sat on the couch, still in a cotton kimono, it occurred to me that she hadn’t been seen in an unspecified measure of time. I checked all the regular spots, including the box spring and didn’t see her. 

The bedroom door was open because when I went downstairs, the door must have been left open, with the plan to start the coffee maker and return immediately upstairs to dress. Instead, I forgot about the open door and sat on the couch for a couple hours, drinking coffee, playing Wordle and Words with Friends and all the other time suck phone stuff.

Meanwhile, the little feline explorer who hasn’t even gone to the top of the stairs in weeks (that I know of), was probably making notes. She saw the opportunity in my sloth and quietly did her thing. I imagined her silent amusement as she heard me calling her name and looking for her, especially when I looked into the box spring the first time and didn’t see her.

She has been reclining in her palace of peace and quiet for at least ten hours. It’s possible that she came out and returned while I was mowing the yard. Eventually, she will exit the fortress for food, water, and the freshly changed litterbox. And I will risk a broken hip and run up the stairs to shut the door that should have been closed this morning.