Ivy

We really were only joking when we came to the first open house, saw this, and said well, now we will have to have this house.

It was a Joke.

The universe responds with dry, deadpan, sarcasm.



A productive, but largely restorative day. Early out to laundry and groceries. Ate reheated Chinese for lunch, then got the books away. That's the last of the unpacking. No more boxes with crap in 'em. Still more sorting, figuring out where things are, but no un-emptied boxes. No wonder House the Home wanted us, so much space for books, built in. There is still room, and one of our bookshelves stands without even shelves in (can't find the nubbins to hold them up) but not needed.

D took down the damn ceiling fan in the bedroom yesterday, and, after we went out for a taller ladder, put up a plain light. Poor guy, arms kept going into complete muscle failure, me not tall enough to be of much more than a supporting role. After the ladder, I was able to do the final screwing-in, and then the cleaning-up, which I was glad to do. One more fan to remove, then the damn halogen fixtures in the back hall - a job for another week.


Spent some time clearing the ivy from the house. Not done, need gloves and a mask, eye protection, to do the rest. Very irritated with all the dust. But it is better, a few more sessions, and I think I can get it clear. A process.

Moby crashed in his bed, Fortress of Solitude, beside a window. He's been a busy cat. Supervised the shifting of the books closely.