Day Six

So after breakfast, I took a nap and was most thankful to be awakened by a call from Brother Sushi. I told him he had saved me from what had been shaping up to be a rather alarming dream. After some discussion back and forth, we decided that yesterday was a better day to pick up the furniture than today, especially since he had a coupon from Texas de Brazil which included dessert in the price of dinner and was only good Mondays through Thursdays.

As it turned out, we were unable to easily remove the drawers from my new dresser, so the clerk mummified it in packing foam, and they strapped it into the back of Brother Sushi’s truck. Then we picked up the bookcases at the antique store, where [ahem] I may have put an armoire on layaway. [It was smaller than the one I put on layaway last year but changed my mind about; I used the credit balance to buy the bookcase in which my sheep collection resides.] This armoire has labeled shelves, one of which says pyjamas.

Now, how could I possibly resist that? I can hardly wait to stack my own PJ’s on that shelf. There was also a long, low bookcase with nine cubbies that might do very well by the back door in my kitchen, for storing miscellaneous pots and pans, or in my studio, to contain my fabric collection. Brother Sushi was also ogling it, as well as a lovely secretary [the inanimate kind, with four legs] which would fit nicely into his living room. He says the new dresser says “Marco Polo” to him: Near- or Far-Eastern, by way of Italy.

We managed to break one of the glass doors when securing the bookcases. The antiques dealer is getting a new panel made for me, and I’ll pick it up the day that I have my well-woman, if not before. It’s not like my books are going to pitch a fit if they are not kept under glass; they’ve managed pretty well so far, under various living conditions.

I have just about decided not to do the faux finish on my bedroom walls, and to repurpose that paint for my studio. I don’t know if it’s a case of work available expanding to fit the time at hand, or if I am a wee bit too old to relish climbing up and down that stepladder to do the cutting-in, or a plain and simple case of yarn fumes beginning to overcome me. I am rapidly reaching the point where I just want to be done in there so I can move the bookcases in and get the books up off the floor in the hall. And I am missing my knitting.

I am trying to figure out if I can move the bookcases in before shifting the bed to paint the last wall. I know you can’t make a German pancake without breaking an egg or three. I know that in the middle of a creative endeavor, I frequently find vast amounts of chaos and clutter before the ends get woven in. What I want, right this minute [which happens to be 3:33 in the morning], is about a peck of tidiness scattered randomly throughout the house, wherever it would do the most good. Maybe a bushel of tidiness.

Am I going to feel cranky with myself, six months from now, if I leave the walls with only one perfectly lovely coat of paint? It’s a very happy color, and I grin when I see it, just as I do with the coordinating wall I painted last year.

I would sit on the couch and knit my way through the problem-solving, but the couch looks worse than my bed did a couple of days ago, and the dresser is parked between the end of the couch and the TV so that I can move the bookcases when the time is right. I would take a nap, but I woke about 45 minutes ago from nearly seven full hours of sleep, so I don’t think that would work, either.

‘Tis a puzzlement.

In order to close this post on a positive note, I will share with you that Middlest texted me yesterday afternoon; she was safely on terra firma. [And presumably headed to her favorite Mexican food restaurant in Virginia Beach.]