Sunday, September 14, 2008

Baskets of it

I do the laundry. I am happy about that, changed the sheets gratuitously. Very carefully hung a bunch out on the rack, put rack in the sun outside.

The self-contained former-garage apt. that Doug called The Fiber Kitchen had devolved into savagery. In the first place, it was essentially without counter space (like one stacks things on the stovetop, and then moves them to cook). In the second, Doug (who is still moving out) had tended to put things there and when he began moving, he put more things there and when I began renovating I put things there.
Doug took some of his things elsewhere, and after some time I realized I could put things into the mostly empty cupboards, and move the microwave/toaster/electric kettle complex into the kitchen area. This made it a lot more like a kitchen, raising my expectations.
Yesterday I moved things of Doug's into a nasty mass on one side of the room. This was precipitated by my noticing that the last (and I mean last) time the raccoons had rifled the place looking for cat food, they had tipped over the kitty litter tray. I would prefer the cats Went outside, but since I now seal the house every night to keep the raccoons out, I feel it necessary to provide something. In order for anyone larger than cats or raccoons to get to that part of the room, I had to do something. And it would be nice not to have to negotiate a treacherous course to get to the only place in the room the radio had adequate reception. And at that, somewhere to sit while the leftovers warmed up, or even to eat them, was an interesting idea.

So I moved stuff, organizing what was mine and eventually reaching the litter litter. I love my shop vac. I was handy to the laundry, and also to the rack, which I moved inside when the sky clouded up (it was supposed to rain yesterday) and back outside when the sun came back out. I improvised another counter and de-crumbed the toaster-oven. I fell through the door twice, AFTER I had made it obstacle free, and doing no good first to one ankle (it turns unexpectedly about once every three years) and then to the other (I think I just missed the step) and wondered whether I was coming down with an interesting brain disorder and limped and took arnica.

I moved the chair out of the living room and put it into the space between Doug's loom and the window and cleaned the bathroom and sat down and finished sweating just as Sarah arrived. I changed some of the clothes on the rack and did another load of laundry, and we ripped a bunch of CDs to Sarah's new computer. The we moved inside and knitted and eventually had food. Sarah left around nine and I forgot to bring the clothes rack in. The forecast is for possible rain this morning. I would say it was possible, since it has been raining steadily since midnight.

It was a good day. It's not easy being green.

I can walk all right today although my ankles are still discussing how mean I am.

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