Sitting up in bed with my computer in my lap just because I can. And thinking about our nice, mundane life…just work and mud problems (easy and passing), and ordinary stuff.
All four of us were game to head off to bed/our rooms at nine tonight instead of sitting in the living room yawning over pinterest, chess, or rook. I took a phone call up to Amy from one of her house cleaning clients and she was relaxing already: candle lit, bookish tidiness, and her new black board written up in white chalk creative lettering a saying. Brad is starting the counterpart chain mail glove. (He’s a clever kiddo.) He said he’d be doing that for awhile yet this evening in his room. Elv is doing his own work clothes laundry for a couple more hours while he lounges and reads/studies on his device. Four people on “me time” tonight pretty well sums this paragraph up.
I get to stay home the rest of the week. I can do whatever I want to do. Since I’m all grown up that means I will do what has been waiting to be done in the line of sewing and sewing.
Just sewing. Oh but it takes me a long time to want to. First, I start to dream about pretty, cotton-cool clothes for work when I see a pretty skirt on a friend. It is not coveting! It just wakes me up. And I need to be waked up. Next I have to think through the practical problems of new dresses: where to buy fabric, how many pieces, and to plan how they shall be made up. Then to shop, either myself online, or through my smart girls who live near to fabric sources and know what I like. After that, I insert the project of sewing up two other dresses for someone else who needs them far worse than I do. That gives me a deadline on those and an incentive for these.
All this time I am dreading having to actually sit down and sew. Sewing is a pain and I don’t want to do it. I am worried that I’ll have to actually sew when I don’t feel like sewing. I find myself just putting it off. I have so many other things to do: read a book, blog, take pictures of the tulips coming up, the everlasting dishes piled up in the kitchen. Even those household chores I don’t enjoy can be happily done while I put off the sewing. I tell myself that no miracle of wanting to sew is going to come to me at any given point. I shall just simply have to make myself get at it. Soon.
I am actually enjoying the sewing, as I always do, after all that hoopla in my mind. Don’t ask, I don’t know.
We’ve been hauling in rabbit manure/mulch for the gardens and lawn. Mike and Cindy don’t charge us for the mulch, but they asked us to do the chores this weekend. So Brad and I followed them around while they showed us how it is done. How hard can it be to feed and water rabbits? I’m a little nervous about Mavis, though. She is the old grandmother rabbit who is aging and won’t live long now. Mike pretended nonchalance while telling me that if she dies, I should put her in a plastic bag and throw her in any one of their three freezers in the garage. You just never know what you’re getting yourself in for doing rabbit chores, I guess. So I am praying that Mavis doesn’t die this weekend. Because if she dies and I put her in a freezer; I’ll get home and worry that she wasn’t dead after-all, and I’ve killed her instead, by freezing her to death. Seriously!
Brad repaired his cabin roof today and threw the bad shingles in on top of the fully loaded dumpster. Elv asked him to take them out of the dumpster. My conscience could easily bear leaving them in there. What else are we going to do with four dead shingles? Elv and I both have complicated consciences on completely different things. And there is no rhyme or reason to either of our discrepancy. So Elv will not defile his with illegal shingles and I won’t use insurance claim money for anything but exactly what that insurance was applied for. We have a mutual respect and eye-rolling for each other. Oh well.
Elv will not knowingly drive a car with expired license plate, either. I did it for two days this week. And nothing whatsoever happened. I did nothing to attract the concern of a cop and it was fine. Elv scolded me saying that if I were to be picked up with an expired license the car would be grounded right there on the shoulder of the road. I guess he must know, but I find myself thinking, Then what? that is so not the end of the world, really, is it? It’s just the Eve in me, I know. So I went online and registered it, pronto. Now if I get picked up, it will only be for the bad tail light.