I get it every year, albeit, each time, a slightly different mutation of the post-Christmess, summer school holiday ‘blahness’ that sets in once Himself is back at work and I’m at home for a couple of weeks with the slothing, holidaying children.
The symptoms vary, but usually always involve feeling slothful oneself, and at the same time feeling guilty for not “achieving” much in the day – perhaps to the extent of still being in bed when one’s beloved breadwinner is off at the office. (I did manage to get myself up today before he left. So guilt symptoms a little less today.) Mind you, most days I’d happily trade places – and let him deal with the blandness of school holidays at home. Things like getting-ready-to-go-to-the-shops clothing issues that I went through yesterday. (Strangely enough when I tried to relate to him the 11 yr olds crop top/bralette/strappy top issue of the morning, he really didn’t want to know.)
January 2010 has, so far, given us a few minor challenges and inconveniences. My desktop computer is still dead. The kids’ computer has gone kaput again. We were lulled into a false sense of satisfaction after M. fixed the washing machine, but that same night the sewer line developed ‘issues’ – ie. root blockage down at the junction to the main sewer line, causing ‘glug glug’ sounds in the drain, and some overflow issues out of the overflow drain in the front yard. Fortunately (but $185 later) that was fixed by plumbers before lunch the next day. And major shrub clearance and possible tree lopping/removal is on the to-do list.
The same day the dining room furniture company came to take away our new table to repair a joint that shouldn’t be splitting so wide, so for meals we are currently huddled around a small table that Himself has triumphantly used the opportunity to relocate from my ‘sewing nook’ up in our room. Where it will go once our table returns is anyone’s guess, but I can tell you that he won’t be letting me take it back up there. (And seeing it didn’t help my back one little bit getting it down two flights of stairs that day, it’s not something I’m keen on doing anyway, never mind the question of its usefulness to me up there, and what I’m going to do with all the ‘stuff’ I had on it.)
The renovation/extension planning is gaining momentum, with submission of plans to council imminent. The day of the sewer line drama we had the Design Co. guy and an engineer out here.
And the next day we had an appointment at the kitchen company. I’m still reeling from that. No so much that I’m a bit ‘last century’ with any ideas of what you can get in a kitchen these days. From the minute we walked in and met the kitchen guy, we kept glancing around for hidden cameras – wondering if we were in some type of new surprise type episode of a new TV show ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Kitchen’. Honestly this guy would give Carson whatshisname a run for his money, but we are still grappling with the concept that he’s been married for 23 years, with two sons, and he feels sorry for us having three girls. (Yes, he was very.. erm… talkative…) (It was all I could do not to suggest that p’raps there were more than enough X chromosomes provided by him in the household!)
That said, the design he came up with looks pretty good… We’re just still.. nonplussed… and .. erm.. bracing ourselves for the next meeting.
Interior/exterior designer meeting next Tuesday, at which we hope she’s taken on board our rejection of her ‘brown’ themes (for a ‘contemporary’ look that ‘won’t go out of fashion’) and that she’ll come up with a more ‘beachy’ colour palette for us.
People tell me to look through magazines and that, and honestly, I try (my sister had a stack of dozens of Home Beautifuls and Country Livings), but flipping through these things honestly is just not my thing. I try, really I do – yesterday at a checkout I threw in a Better Homes and Gardens mag – because it advertised great storage ideas on the front cover – and seriously- what a waste of money… there was stuff all in it that we could relate to. Which is why we’re paying a designer as part of our design package, and it’s her job to figure out what will work for us. Bit of a process of elimination I think, but we’ll get there.
Meanwhile, apart from being saddened by the terrible loss of life from the Haiti earthquake, I’ve been following a local story where a group of canyoners doing the upstream section of the canyon we did last week, have met with tragedy. A 15 year old boy is dead from a rock fall (and the rest of the party split and got lost for two days). As relatively experienced canyoners we’re scratching our heads over it all, because we hate to see the hype that canyoning will receive over this, particularly as this is one of the easiest canyons you can do. As the news becomes old news we’ll probably never find out from the mainstream media exactly what happened – all we’ve gleaned so far is that they look to have strayed out of the canyon lon the wrong side of the river to the entry/exit tracks (something much harder to do than it sounds…) Here’s a link to a news story from this morning. (I am relieved to read the quote from another experienced canyoner) Right now my feelings are mixed with sadness, yet frustration, because I have to wonder if this tragedy happened because they were doing something that wasn’t sensible. (The easier the canyon, the more inexperienced people do them, bad decisions are made, increasing the likelihood of accidents., although I’m not stupid enough to say that it is a risk free activity. Shit can happen if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time.)
In this context it feels kind of weird to be preparing to post up our happy canyoning photos. I’m confined to the spare ‘not actually ours’ laptop for now, so I’m not in a position to load up all our photos, but (next post now I think) I’ll link to them from Himself’s facebook album. Right now I’m going just slightly demented from just using the touchpad – so before anything else happens, a frenzied hunt for MY missing wireless mouse is about to ensue!
Just another symptom of this particular bout of Januaryitis.