No, this isn’t the title of the next great American novel I am furiously working on. That item won’t be in the works until a large dose of inspiration smacks me in the forehead. (But what a story that could make… man from paint company designs a new line that repels flies….putting the flyswatter company out of business, that, just happens to be owned by the father of the woman he is madly in love with. He must choose: Develop his revolutionary paint and lose the girl forever, or choose love and can the plan. Just add Rachael McAdams, a depressing ending and some man candy and you’ve got Nicholas Sparks’ next novel-turned-movie.) But I digress…
If you had stopped by yesterday, you would have walked into a freshly painted living room, dining area, and kitchen, with all the furniture and paraphernalia where it belonged. You could have walked in a straight line from the table to the refrigerator door- no obstacle course to maneuver around. My shins were very thankful for this. For as many times as I zigzagged my way through those rooms the past few weeks, I would often end up zigging when I should have been zagging and I have the bruises to prove it.
But, like I said, that was yesterday. (Cue that Beetles song). If you came over this evening you would have still walked into freshly painted rooms, this time adorned with a scattering of boxes and totes and boxes and bags and more boxes. The spare room (aka the room that accumulated everything I hadn’t found a place for yet), is getting its turn with the bristle brush tomorrow and was, therefore, purged of all its contents. I feel like I just moved in all over again.
When I first started painting I was very excited and had grand plans for each nook and cranny in the new abode. But as I became immune to the paint fumes my euphoric buzz wore off and I realized how much I truly, deeply, 100% detest painting. The moving furniture and taking the electric outlet plates down and the taping around the windows and the trim and those pesky drop cloths…bah! But it will all be worth it…I keep telling myself.
It’s been nearly a month since I’ve moved in and I’m still discovering new things every day. I’m still getting the hang of the light switches (seriously, you’ve never seen so many switches), learning what the mysterious bumps in the night are (the icemaker was a doozy), discovering the perfect setting of the water nozzle in the shower, and finding out where-oh-where are all the flies coming from?!? Maybe it’s because my old place had more spiders hanging out than the Forbidden Forest (Harry Potter reference there), no fly had a chance of getting past the front porch. But here, where spider sightings have been (thank goodness) limited to one, the pesky winged creatures have taken over my life. I spent a good 30 minutes last night hunting them down one by one with my hot pink flyswatter and I thought I had vanquished nearly all of them, only to arrive home this evening to discover hordes of them buzzing about. I call them Lazarydra-flies. You kill one and they just multiply themselves and spring back to life. Out of all the plagues, I think the flies had to be one of the worst.
Day 33 already? That means only 332 short days to go! (You may also like to know that Christmas is in 118 short days.) The next item I’ve started tackling on my list is sign language. I’ve been using this site: http://lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-layout/concepts.htm. I’ve begun by memorizing all the signs from mom, dad, aunt, brother, etc and I noticed this trend that he mentions on the site:
Notice how most male signs (boy, man, uncle, father, brother…) are done near the forehead or “brain” area–which is to say, where the thinking occurs, but most female-related signs (mother, sister, aunt) are near the mouth where thetalking occurs?
I particularly like the explanation his wife gave him:
I pointed this out to my wife and she explained it to me: “Men think they know what they are talking about, women really do.”
And on that note…adieu. 🙂