Notes from church.

So, yesterday I cleared off the bed. The following was the inspiration that came to me during my friend Andrea's talk in sacrament meeting. I listened with one ear and thought with the other.

Set goals that will enable me to finish the month of July with a room that is neat, clean, and orderly.

I don't understand why homemaking is so hard for me. When the kids were little, that was one reason. I was outnumbered, overwhelmed, and underfunded. As the nest emptied, it didn't get much easier. But it was all my own mess.

Anxiety meds have helped, significantly. And now two of my kids have moved back. They brought a lot of stuff with them, and their stuff is only a very small part of the problem. The mess and the clutter and the chaos is mine. With Heaven's help I can do better. I might even be able to conquer this before I go Home.

(At which point I resumed taking notes on the talks my friends were giving.)

I'm pleased to say that I had a great, relatively brief nap this afternoon. I've read a few articles in The Economist, listened to a couple of General Conference addresses, a podcast about insincere apologies, determined that a reference book on the Gospels can go back out into the bookcase in the living room since we start on Acts tomorrow, finished a chapter in the first volume of Saints, reneged on my intention to write members of Congress about the warehoused children on our southern border, read an article by Dr. James Dobson that gives a slightly different perspective on the problem, and pondered the uproar among liberals for Wayfair selling mattresses to provide for those kids. Which seems to me to be a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. I'd be happier about it if they'd donated the mattress, but I can't fault them for remembering that they are a business.

There's a lot bouncing around in my head right now. I need time and space and peace to think about it all. But for now I'm going to take 15 seconds to clear off my bed (because it shouldn't take much longer after yesterday's efforts), turn off the lights, and let Heaven and my subconscious wrangle with it all.

Gack.

This will probably be written in stages. The alarm clock said that I slept for seven and a half hours. My body said otherwise. And my dreams were more weird than usual. I was attending church in an unfamiliar building with a huge parking lot, on Easter Sunday, wrapped only in a towel. I left the meeting right after taking the sacrament, because I didn't want anyone to notice(!). And then I couldn't find my car. And it was raining and very, very dark. My dad drove up to help me look. He's been gone almost 30 years. I have no idea what all of that means. I just woke up feeling dazed and slightly dark.

~~~

In which your intrepid heroine spends a couple of hours listening to "Revisionist History" while turning worn out, unsalvageable items into rags. Because she needs to clear off the bed, dust the headboard, throw away the old cheap comforter that's been living inside the nice Pottery Barn duvet cover since after Beloved's funeral, likewise the flannel sheet with holes engraved into it by her alligator heels, wash and put away the duvet cover until winter, when maybe there will be sufficient progress on the honey-do list to justify a nice duvet filler from IKEA.

All this because a cup of the sherbet from hell tipped over and spilled mango raspberry fire onto the partially shredded sheet (and the otherwise impeccable duvet cover). Thus forcing her to finally deal with the archaeological dig which is her bed.  PSA: the raspberry mango spicy sherbet from Braums is evil, and you have been warned.

~~~

I've spent the better part of the day sorting out my bed. Clothes hung up; compression socks that had escaped my notice are now matched, rolled up, and in the sock drawer; old comforter extricated from the duvet cover, which is currently tumbling in the dryer; a load of whites washed and waiting their turn; half an issue of "The Economist" devoured and almost ready for recycling; a few rows of knitting; etc. etc. etc.

I learned something while wrangling the duvet cover. It has ribbons sewn into the inside corners to hog-tie whatever one chooses to insert.

Old dog. New tricks.

I am going to need my muscle relaxer tonight. I've been using my phone as a Fitbit. It thinks I've only walked seven steps today. My feet would argue otherwise, but my pajama pants don't have pockets. So it really is true about lies, d@mn lies, and statistics.

PS: I'll have to do a bit more reorganizing in my boudoir before I can lay hands on the lambswool duster. It's around here somewhere...

Sundry bits of progress.

I think I mentioned in my big, catch-up post that I'd received a certified letter about Lorelai's having been towed. I was finally able to connect with an authority figure at the towing company to determine that the registered owner (no longer me, for something like two years) has also been contacted.

There will be another certified letter in the next few days, because I'm still listed as a former owner on the state's system, and I can safely ignore it.

I just didn't want to be the reason that the new owner never got notice of whom to contact to free Lorelai from car jail.

I've lost another two pounds through improved diet and increased movement. Furthermore, the weird drowsiness and incessant appetite have disappeared. I think my wonderful doctor will be pleased when I see her in August.

I've struggled for years with being on time for work, averaging slightly over one tardy per month. In January I was successful every blessed day. I rewarded myself by splurging on three new lipsticks and two lip pencils.

February, March, April, and May were pretty sad. But I met my goal for June, and this month's reward will be art supplies. There's a YouTube artist I follow who draws Zentangle tiles. To shade some of them, she's used aquarelle (watercolor) graphite pencils. I am charmed! I already have a healthy supply of colorful aquarelles. I've been playing with them for almost 30 years.  I've also been trying my hand with Zentangle. It's slow going, because I have to be in the mood, and mostly I'd rather knit.

I think of it mostly as a way to train my hand and eyes. I've seen a charming landscape created from various doodles, and once I have a better grasp of how to draw and combine them, I'd like to try doing still life drawings incorporating them. They appeal to the part of my brain that likes math, logic puzzles, and whimsy.

My phone wants to call it a day. It's down to 29%, and frankly so am I. Looking forward to a good night's sleep and some solid puttering tomorrow.

Mad dogs and English ma'ams.

The kids are playing some sort of video game behind me. So I have access to the computer.

It was a really, really good day. I took a little time before lunch and walked to the Records Building with various pieces of paper. Diana is now titled in my name and reflects the lien from my credit union. I could have had another baby* in the time it took to get the paperwork straightened out.

*Well, if Beloved were still mortal, and I were two to four decades younger.

I still have not been able to speak with the one person who theoretically can help me get information to Lorelai's new owner about where she (Lorelai, not the owner) was towed and how to get her out of car jail.

But for now I'm going to take my meds and try to be asleep in ten minutes or less. I only got five and a half hours of sleep last night, because of distraction. I'm hoping for eight hours tonight. I did compensate for the lack of sleep by logging almost 5,000 steps throughout the day. Tomorrow I'd like more rest and less trudging.

Night, y'all.

Productive day with no nasty surprises

I've eaten sensibly today, traveled safely, and gotten stuff done at work. Right now I am contemplating a plate with the last four strawberries and a fat handful of cherries. It is balanced atop a mug of V8.

There's been some knitting, with time to do a little more before bedtime if I choose. I don't have the ambition to draw or make music tonight.

Today I submitted this month's medical receipts for reimbursement. I was a little surprised that it won't entirely use up the balance in my fund.

And I finished straightening out some weirdness with an old, closed credit card. That account has been closed for over fifteen years. When I got the notice, in my prior married name, regarding opting out of their arbitration agreement, I thought at first that I'd been hacked.

I went to a local branch yesterday, where I was informed by a teller that the account was closed but had been racking up interest over the years with a balance now owing of $3700!!! So I waited and waited to speak with the only banker on duty, and he gave me a number to call.

I did that today. She reassured me that the account was closed, that I had paid the balance in full, and that I owed them nothing.

Whew!

So all I need to do now is get word to Lorelai's registered owner on who towed her and how to get her out of car jail. Because the notice got sent to me. Apparently s/he never bothered to get me off the title.

We've all calmed down about the pending dental work and are waiting to hear back at wonderful dentist's convenience.

It's been a much better day in my neighborhood.

Still breathing.

Andrea, thank you for the lovely comment that you left.

I miss blogging. I'm trying to figure out how to shoehorn all the things I want to do into my day, and great chunks are falling to the wayside.

Part of this is because of how much time I'm spending in the scriptures because of "Come, Follow Me." Some of it is because we moved Fourthborn in, in stages, and that took up a bunch of April and May.

She's all moved in, and I'm delighted, as is Middlest. We haven't had the chance to do the garage remodel, so currently Fourthborn is camped out in the living room, as she has been when she's visited ever since Middlest moved in. She's no longer sleeping in a pallet on the floor, or on one or the other of the geriatric cots that I inherited from Beloved. We have a very nice secondhand mattress for her, and she's significantly more comfortable.

However. Her bed is about two feet from my computer, and all three of us are on significantly different sleep schedules. If you can call them that. I learned to type on a manual typewriter, and I type loudly. Right now I'm swyping on my phone, which has its own challenges.

I'll try to bring y'all up to date before my evening meds kick in. Earlier this month, Middlest and I visited our friends in Tennessee and brought home the last dab of stuff. The living room and dining room look like an active game of Tetris.

We saw the ducks march at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis. I could get used to valet parking and five star service.

I bought the lap harp that I fell in love with on our previous visit. I've tuned it and am learning to play "Rock of Ages." I bought two skeins of souvenir yarn.

I've downloaded an app and am tracking all sorts of stuff. Because of that, I'm making better choices about what I eat. I've lost a (very) few pounds.

We had an active shooter in downtown Dallas a week ago Monday. They evacuated our building, which is kitty corner to the Federal Building. I went home and dug out the banjo and knitted.

This Monday we had some clueless guy who parked his semi by the Federal Building  and wandered away. That shut down the central business district for about four hours. I was able to get into our parking garage, and before it was time to log in, they told us to evacuate. No bomb in the semi, and we reopened at 11, which made for a short and frustratingly unproductive day. I was rather cranky on the way home.

Today I'm off, because we had our every four month dental cleanings. Our wonderful dentist is quite ill, but there is hope. The substitute is very professional, and she recommends a boatload of work on each of my bipolar bears, to the tune of approximately ten grand. I was ready to weep by the time it was my turn in the chair.

I've quietly requested that our dentist review the treatment plans and X-rays, determine how much of this is urgent, and prioritize everything.

It looks as if Fourthborn will be camping on the floor awhile longer and the garage revamp may get pushed back until next year.

That's all I've got for you at the moment. I need to swig more buttermilk, as dinner is sending up a few fireworks. Imagine that!