Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Holy Grails and other missing Artifacts

Some of you may not know that I have a degree, a BA. Others of you may not know what it is in, Anthropology. And most of you are unaware what that entails or what my specialties were/are. While my primary focus was cultures, cultural interactions, societies and structuring of cultural-socio belief systems, and I was also trained in Archaeology. Yup, just call me Indie and I have worked on an official dig and everything. (no bad guys in sight, only a bunch of 5th graders)

Since the move in to the new house, I feel as though I am stepping back into that archaeology mind-set. Why, you ask? Because I can't find a damn thing!

I was careful when I labeled the boxes. Locations and a brief description of what is inside to jog my memory when the time came to unpack. So it's been 18 days WITHOUT a hair dryer. The yarn I bought for specific Christmas projects and gifts went MIA. I know I have more than 6 pairs of undies, but I can't seem to find them. (thank god the washer and dryer work!)

I have been systematically searching boxes based on a nice grid search using key clues to track down the items that are buried in the boxes and disorder. I have been rationally dissecting where I would have packed these items. They were held out until the last moment for use, then pack for the move the night before. With all my logical labeling and rational, this should have been a simple task. Uh-uh.

Last night it came to a head with me completely loosing myself in a frustrated predatory hunt through the house for the missing items. The cat hid under the sofa and cringed back from the gleam of madness in my eyes. The neighbor's dogs bayed in warning and fear at the scent of the wild beast that had entered their territory. The glint of the box cutter flashed as paper was strewn through out the house, pitiful discarded remains of the rage, the battle.

By the end, no box stood whole. The complete and utter chaos that best describes the savage scene, lay waiting in tension. Waiting to see if the beast had finished it's rampage. The air was still. All grails were uncovered but the ever elusive hairdryer. Logic had failed to find it. Shear animal-istic hunting instincts failed to find it. All hope was lost. It was time to admit defeat. I went into the master bath to prepare for bed and wash the remains of battle from my face. While drying my face with a towel, the cat appears, looking at me to check the level of sanity in my eyes and then proceeds to paw open the cabinet under the sink. A favorite past-time of hers. She gets the cabinet door open...

There it is. My pink hair dryer. Put away where it belongs.

The last place I would have looked.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Housewarming gift? Asprin

So, tonight I will be washing the dinner dishes by hand.

"Why?" you ask? I have just bought a new house. The house has a dish washer. A theoretically nice dishwasher, correct? The one that the inspector said seems to be in working order and the sellers said was brand new.

Well, if I didn't already know it, the sellers are full of shit and the inspector can't test the heating coil in a 4 minute test. Does the water run? Yes. Does it drain? Yes. Is there any reason why a seemingly brand new machine would have a bad coil? Most likely not. Unless it was bought off a truck and/or defective sale, floor model thing.

And yet, something is not right. I looked through all the paperwork that they left me. Stove, oven, Microwave and fridge were all accounted for. But not the dishwasher. Hmmmm......

So this has been added to the ever increasing amount of things that need to get fixed. Sealing the grout in the showers, snake the one upstairs toilet, shoe molding on the vinyl floors, bottom of cabinet in the Lab that fell out, master light switch that makes crackling noise when turned on, various window issues, the stairs on the deck that aren't as safe as they should be, poor jointing on the wood stove that smokes out the rec room .....

And THAT DAMN FENCE between me and the redneck sheriff so they can park their car on my front yard. It is so clearly not on the property line, that it literally annoys all who see it. Except the neighbors.

But hey, it's mine along with the house. Maybe I'll paint it rainbow.....

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Tiny bit of funny

So, today is painting day and I feel incredibly unprepared. Yesterday I spent hours and hundreds of dollars getting what I should need for today. Many of my wonderful friends will be coming over to paint the new house.

So going to bed tired and stressed last night on a chaise lounge surrounded by unwashed fleece in my home office, was really bound to make for some interesting dreams. Smelling raw fleece all night and having paint anxiety do not go together. I'm sure most people's minds can work out some interesting ones at the with little effort. It was the wake up that did it.

I can feel someone watching me. The sheep are safe next to me and the paint is locked safely away from thieves.

Someone is watching. I can feel it.
No, no I am safe from the furniture salesmen. But I can feel the watching. Maybe if I peek they won't notice and I can tell if and where we need to run to. Just a half-eye-open peek.

Slowly opening my eyes, I see a dark shape with green eyes in the haze of sunrise peering at me. Unmoving. Green eyes.

Okay. Maybe the creature is friendly or trying to tell me something. I'll open my eyes again to see. maybe it just wants to communicate.

The dark form takes shape of a four legged creature. It slowly gets up while still staring at me from what I now realize is the desk. Slowly rising, it suddenly pauses, eyes going wide. The creature then begins to "spin" like the Tasmanian Devil of cartoons. Dangerously close to the edge of the desk, heedless of the risk of falling off. Spinning faster and faster. One foot goes off the side and the creature in panic uses the other 3 feet to launch it's self off the desk on to me. Never slowing the spinning.

I, finally, am awake and grab for the furry monster before it accidentally rips into the bags of raw fleece. And I discover the cause for the panic.

While the cat was stalking me sleeping from the desk, she sat on a piece of tape.

Dangerous stuff that.