Slovenly Productivity

For the past 2 months my bedroom has been a disastrous mess. I mean over the top messy. And I hate it. I don't like it when it's like this.
It started when a roommate moved out, and I switched bedrooms. Shortly thereafter, before I had the chance to get organized in the new room, I went on the big cruise with my family. And then I came back, my laundry exploded, and minutes later I came down with that little nasty kidney stone attack and spent 3 weeks in bed.
I followed those 3 weeks in bed with 3 weeks of working 50+ hours each week at the spa. And then I threw a huge party, and then helped with another huge party. And party planning tends to explode all over my house (and car).
And in short, for someone with only a part-time job, I've been so overwhelmingly busy for the last 2.5 months that something as simple as unloading a laundry basket has been very low on my list of priorities.
Tonight I was certain I was going to sequester myself away in my room, put on a movie on Netflix, and fold some clothes and get organized. It didn't happen. Not even close. But I did get a bunch of bills paid. And bills are always more important than laundry.
I'm moving in about 6 weeks. (Where? That remains a mystery, even to me.) And knowing that, it's becoming even more difficult to motivate myself to organize my room. I'm more likely to just start packing and preparing for the move.
I'm impressed with my tolerance for slovenly living, even if I do hate the mess. I had no idea I could put up with such a disaster for so long. But then again, maybe I shouldn't be so impressed with my own exhaustion and laziness.
That all being said, I think I should hire someone to come over and organize and run my life for a day for me. Is there a service that organizes and pays your bills, plans meals, buys the groceries, does the laundry, and vacuums floors? (And isn't called a wife?)

I miss July already.

August always depresses me. The weather is erratic and oppressive, schedules are unpredictable, the humidity will try to kill you, and you know that at the end of the month, summer is gone, and another long, boring, cold winter is right around the corner, and all the beautiful green things are about to die.
August, you are not my friend.
July was a great month. I spent very little of it at home. I was in Europe for the bulk of it obviously, and then I spent the last 10 days in Roanoke with my nephews. But now I'm back home, facing reality in my little apartment.
Reality is confusing to me these days. I don't have a full picture on what it looks like right now. I'm very busy, but unemployed. I'm writing up a storm, and getting lots of publications, but the money just isn't coming in. I'm tour-sick and missing my tour friends who all live on the other side of the country. And yet, very happy to be home and ready to catch up with my friends that I haven't seen all month.
My mother has been getting into this new fad called "dressing your truth." I'm not too into it, because most of it seems sort of commonsense to me. But I can see how maybe it isn't that way for everyone. We've talked a lot lately about which colors, styles, and haircuts are "your truth." (And ultimately decided I already dress and style "my truth." Go me.)
But now that I'm back home and in my own little apartment, I'm thinking about whether or not my apartment reflects my "truth." I think I mentioned it last year sometime that when I moved here I had to make the sad decision to let my storage unit go. In other words, I lost all my belongings that were in it. It wasn't cost effective to fly cross country to save anything from it.
I had spent several years building up little collection and reflections of me. I had lovingly restored most of my own furniture, and took great pride in several of the pieces. My decorations were unique and unusual, vibrant, colorful, and a great reflection of the things I love and enjoy. (I had an awesome vintage movie poster collection as well as several really cool Broadway record albums.)
The most heartbreaking loss was my book collection. I had around 100 books in storage, all of which I had read and loved.
But that's all gone now.
And I'm rebuilding, slowly but surely. It's not quite the same when you live with a roommate. And it's not easy to do whilst unemployed (again).
It's giving me a lot of time to really think about what matters to me, and what I want my home to say about me. I don't like or want trendy, typical furniture, but you wouldn't know that by looking at my current home. I do like statement pieces that show or share something I love. (I have a great big picture of the DC cherry blossoms in the living room right now. And my bedroom is decorated in maps.)
And so I sit and wonder about who I really am, and have I crafted a world around me that really reflects that? Or are my surroundings simply the result of circumstances? 

Pinch Me, Please

I never get tired of this picture. (I've told this story many times before, so forgive me if you've heard it.) I'm twirling in the Alps in Romania, living out my "Sound of Music" dreams. In just a few seconds I will hit that small white-gray rock beside me, which isn't really a rock at all. It's mountain goat poop. And I will trip, fall, and roll unromantically down the mountain.

And the best part is?

I get to go back to Romania and do it all over again!

It's true!

An organization in Utah (that for now shall remain nameless, but I'll share more about them in a few weeks) has invited me along on their international dance tour this summer. (And I said yes.) We'll be visiting Serbia and Romania. And thanks to the very strange flight schedules of Aeroflot, and a lack of flights into Serbia, I will also be spending 2 days in Moscow.

I'd have to say that so far unemployment is suiting me just fine.

Actually, if we're being honest, I'm barely unemployed. I am writing for the Fool again, editing for Meridian, working on a top secret business venture, doing this gig in Serbia, plus accepting more and more freelance offers every day. It's really rather crazy just how many offers have just found me and jumped right in my lap.

And I have never been more grateful. Truly, I never could have imagined so many amazing opportunities could or would ever come my way so easily.  Somebody pinch me, please!

To do before the big trip:
Find a dogsitter
Finish editing "You Heard It Here First" to submit it to a distributor (this is a BIG deal, folks!)
Finish writing the sequel to "This Just In!"
Finish writing the book on social media and missionary work
Finish writing that other book I'm writing
Write lots of articles for freelance magazines that pay. I need the money.
Get more people to use that Amazon link
Get more people to use my eShakti link
Pack, move, unpack, get organized
Go to Duck Beach
Get Russian visa
Lose 10-15 lbs before Duck Beach (well underway, but goal far from met)
Figure out why my dog snores so much suddenly
Get a new, bigger suitcase
Get a briefcase-purse thing that will carry my laptop
And about a dozen more things

Of Duct Tape and Band-Aids

Last week I brain dumped on Juli about the 500 things I had going on that day. Her response, "I'm over here whining that I accidentally ordered the same lunch again today."
For some reason that made me realize I need to stop brain-dumping on people. I like being busy. I thrive on it. I've often said that if you give me 1 thing to do, I may never get it finished. If you give me 10 things to do I'll have it all finished before lunch plus have time for a Coke break.
And whether or not that is healthy, it's true.
But very few people can see that I'm not whining or even bragging about my 500 things. If anything, saying them aloud just helps me keep track of it all. 
In the past few weeks I've had more to do than I've had to do in years. And I'm not exaggerating. I haven't been this busy or active in so long that I can't remember the last time I was like this.
And I love it. I really do prefer to have a zillion things going on. My brain needs it. It keeps me from wallowing in self-I-don't-know-what. So to have so much happening at once right now really is a good thing. Not to mention, it helps distract me from all the things I can't control. And there are many of those things.
I realized something tonight, I've now lived here six months. Almost to the day. And just like every person who has ever undergone a major life change will say, it hasn't been anything like I expected or anticipated.
To some small degree I suppose I knew it would take about six months to really integrate and find my footing- both in my social circles (church) and work.
What I didn't expect was something I realized tonight. I've been horribly frustrated at work. And I've started getting paranoid about various things and what people are saying/doing/thinking. (In my defense, some of it truly is justified. Certain behaviors have changed so drastically that I barely know how to interact with them anymore.) But tonight as I realized it really has been six months I had an awakening-
My last FOUR jobs all hit major snags at the 6 month mark. I won't go into great detail on that here. But 2 of the four jobs came to a screeching halt (as in the companies had layoffs or went out of business)! No wonder I expect bad things at this point. I've been traumatized into expecting the worst. I had to sit down and actually write out some of the good things that have happened to me at work to prove to myself that I won't get fired in the morning. Do I have any reason to think I will get fired? Well, there is that drastic behavior change... But no, not really. If anything, I did just get 2 major bumps in responsibility. So my job is pretty safe. Probably. Maybe. I hope.
At least now I realize that I need to power through this little "end of the honeymoon" phase. We're hitting some road bumps and we need to work them out. And this is a good employer- as compared to the last few employers where road bumps meant layoffs.
(Still, realizing this and convincing my stomach knots to untie are 2 very different things.)
You know what else happens at the six month mark?
Things start to fall apart.
All the band-aids and duct tape I was using to hold my life together these last few years is starting to fall off. And I no longer have the "compassionate excuse" of being unemployed when I can't afford to fix everything. I'm trying and scrambling, but it's not easy. Really, what it comes down to is that I need to make about $800 more a month, and duplicate myself to get it all done.
Which reminds me, I either have to sink $2700 worth of repairs into my 10 yr old car (that's only worth about $1900), or buy a new car. And either way, I need a roommate to split the rent with me so I can afford to do it. Oh and my landlord is making me move out so they can fix a safety issue with my ceiling. So there's that. (If you know of any professional single women in DC that love dogs and need a place to live...)
It never rains but it pours. But I like it when it pours. I'd much rather see a big old downpour than days on end of little sprinkles and showers. But that's just me.
Bring on the rain.
And the 500 things.
And the Coke break.
Never forget the Coke break.

Feelings, so many feelings.

What a bottle of Martinelli's looks like when chilled in a car to 7 degrees.

I'm tempted tonight to sit around and whine and complain on here. I'm trying to convince myself that I won't, but I see by the fact that I'm typing, I'm about to lose my internal battle with self. The angel on the right shoulder is saying, "Don't say it! Don't do it!" The devil on the left is whispering, "You deserve to vent!"

Decisions, decisions.

Devil it is.

Like the rest of the U.S., I'm feeling compelled to complain about the weather and comment on just how bitterly cold it is out there. But my two cents is just a little different from everyone else.
Why?
I just had sinus surgery. And lemme tell you, if I had had a crystal ball and could have seen that bitter cold temps were coming just a few days after my surgery (which granted was in December, and sure that should have been more obvious), I may have delayed a few more weeks. Or not. I did what I did when I did based on insurance deductibles. (That was a lot of unintentional alliteration.) Bitter cold temps on freshly scraped sinuses is not a pleasant feelings! At all! And for someone like me who is prone to nosebleeds on cold, dry days to start with, and the condition is exasperated by sinus surgery, all I'm saying is today was a bloody long day.

As for the other things I feel the urge to whine/complain/vent about, one would be my job. The non-specific entity on my right shoulder is trying to remind me that the "honeymoon is over" and that's why I'm so irritated. The non-specific entity on the left shoulder doesn't care, it's just tired of being underemployed. I've been underemployed in this position since the start. It was always going to be a fairly easy job to do. (Minus dealing with personalities- which has been my biggest learning curve. This place has some doozies, and they don't seem to know it.) Some changes were made recently that inadvertently took some of my responsibilities away. Now not only is my work too easy to do, I don't have enough work to fill the day. I've been trying to create new work to keep myself busy, useful, and needed, but certain other persons have made it difficult to succeed. (See: personalities- doozies.) Which tells me it's time to find some tactful and proper ways to handle this situation with certain other persons. Unfortunately, past history has never been kind in this area. I fear it.

Remember the ongoing drama with my landlord and neighbor(s) regarding the professional pogo stick jumping upstairs? Last I heard the pogo stick jumpers were supposed to move out before Christmas. But that never seemed to happen. However, the neighbors did go on a long trip for Christmas, which helped me maintain sanity quite a bit. But they are back and the noise is as frustrating as ever.

Today I happened to see my landlord. Before I even got the chance to ask what's going on up there, she told me. Apparently the landlord really is forcing (very nicely) the person(s) out. The person's lease isn't up until March, but the landlord is making them leave before then in order to get the necessary repairs made. But apparently the neighbor is not making it easy, which is completely within that person's right to do so.

It occurs to me that the neighbor is in an odd position. The noise isn't heard up there as bad as it is down here. There is a safety concern, but not a major one. S/he doesn't really have to worry about falling through the floor. There will likely be plenty of warning before that happens. Moving is not fun or easy, and is a major life disruption. So yeah, they probably don't want to deal with it. Can't say I blame them.

Which brings me back to the need for a tactful and polite conversation - this time with a person(s) I've never seen or met. I have wanted to avoid the confrontation for as long as possible. But right now my entire wall is shaking because the pogo stick jumpers have left their bathroom ceiling fan on. It has been on for over an hour. I'm about to lose my mind. If they don't turn it off soon, I may be forced to put on some pants and finally go up there and meet them. I really don't want to put on my pants. Not to mention, I hate confrontation.

So there you have it. My whining and venting. There is so much more I'd love to say, but I'm keeping my mouth shut for now. If I stop here I still have a chance of convincing you that I really am a happy person, I'm just stuck in multiple frustrating scenarios right now. You know what I mean?

save me from myself

 

I'm at my wit's end with my upstairs neighbors. It isn't their fault, so I don't take my frustrations out on them.
I hear every little footstep they make. All of them.
I hear when they sit down.
I can tell when they step into their micro-sized kitchen (where I wish they would go more often) because I can't hear them walk in there.
I can tell when they step into their shower.
I can (I kid you not) hear them roll over in bed!
But like I said, it isn't their fault. They aren't elephants and they don't stomp around heavy-footed.
Instead, the problem (according to the landlord, maintenance, and others) is that carpeting was put down over old parquet flooring. And the flooring has now come loose from whatever goes below the parquet. The neighbors don't hear it, because it is muffled to them by the padding and carpeting.
But down here? Under all of that?
Holy hannah, you have never heard such an annoying sound. Every single step they make sounds like they are jumping on a trampoline, or possibly a pogo stick, with constants creaks and springy squeaky sounds. It reminds me of a Mickey Mouse haunted house read-along record/book I had as a kid, where the haunted house had creaky floors and doors.
If it wasn't a non-stop, never-ending, incredibly loud noise, I would find it funny. It was comical at first. But now? It makes me want to cry half the time.
From the minute they get home from work (about 30 minutes after I do) to the minute they go to bed (about an hour before I do), it's non-stop squeaks and creaks coming from the ceiling.
And don't get me started on what it is like to wake up in the middle of the night to realize it was the sound of your neighbor rolling over in bed that startled you. (And I am a very sound sleeper.)
The landlord informs me that the only thing they can do is pull up all of the flooring upstairs. Last week they had the head of all maintenance for the property company come out. He declared it a safety issue, and pointed out some cracks in my walls that were not there before.
So they don't just sound like they might fall through the ceiling, they really might actually do that if this doesn't get fixed.
However, this safety issue (not to mention my sanity) isn't a pressing issue and they are dragging their feet on getting it fixed. I do feel sorry for the neighbors upstairs who will have their lives horribly disrupted to get this fixed. But not that sorry- every single minute they are at home, my life is disrupted.
My guess is that the landlord is going to try and push this off into January to fix so as to put the expenses into the next year.
Fun sidenote- noise blocking headphones don't block out creaking footsteps. (Or other noises emanating from above.) And I can still hear them loud and clear no matter how loud I turn up my TV or radio.
Right now I am pretty sure there must be 10 people practicing on pogo sticks up there. It's the only logical explanation. Or possibly 5 people doing jumping jacks?
Funny thing- I have never, not once, heard them talking, singing, yelling, etc. I've never heard their TV either. But I know many intimate details about their lives, like what time they shower, (how much hot water they use- but that's a different rant for a different day), go to work, go to bed, and what they do in bed. These are not things you want complete [annoyed] strangers to know about you.
Because that annoyed stranger just might finally hit her breaking point and decide to retaliate.
Which brings me to my point- who wants to post my bail?