36 hours

Tuesday, 6 am: alarm goes off. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I have trouble getting out of bed. I’ve finally gotten myself up and dressed by 6:30, and I get ready for work. Hop on the scale, immediately wish I hadn’t. Pack my lunch. Drink a cup of coffee.

7 am: shoot, forgot that I wanted to get a pot roast going in the crock pot for dinner tonight. Chop up the onion and celery, look for the potatoes I bought on Friday evening. Can’t find them. Spend five solid minutes searching through the fridge and every inch of counter. House is tossed because of kitchen remodel. Text Chris to see if he knows where they are. Finally find potatoes on the dining room table next to the cereal. Text Chris back to disregard previous inquiry. Finish getting pot roast set up, set it on Low, and head out the door. I am running late.

8:30 am: Finally get to work, dive into a full day of year-end closeout paperwork. Joy.

12:00: Spend fifteen minutes setting doctor appointments (I do all my annual exams in January/February). Have to leave a message at one. Eat lunch – leftover taco salad, delicious! Busy afternoon.

4:00 pm: the Big Boss just arrived; he has a meeting with a coworker and then needs to touch base with me. I gather the stuff I need to go over with him.

4:15 pm: text husband to check on the pot roast. He says it looks good.

4:40 pm: meet with the Big Boss.

4:59 pm: receptionist begins turning out lights, locking up the office for the night. Big Boss says “wait – I have someone coming in. Leave everything on, the door unlocked.” She does, and leaves. The VIP arrives, Big Boss begins touring her through the office; I realize nobody else is going to shut down the office, so I stay. Clean my desk.

5:30 pm: lock up the office and head home. Grab a loaf of bread from the bakery on my way, to go with the pot roast. I am so hungry! I hope that husband has turned off the crock pot, as the roast has been in there a long time now.

6:15 pm: miss a call back from my doctor because I didn’t hear my phone ring on the train. Grr.

6:47 pm: walk in the door, realizing that daughter has Girl Scouts at 7 pm. See crock pot is still on (!), ask husband to turn it off before the roast dries up completely. Drop knitting bag, call for daughter, head right back out the door to Scout meeting. Meeting goes well, but my stomach rumbles. Can’t wait to get home and finally eat. Hope roast is edible.

8:12 pm: walk in the door, am immediately choking on thick brownish cloud of noxious smoke / dust that fills the house. I gasp, “what the hell is that smell?” Is something burning?? i begin coughing. Daughter flees to her room and shuts the door. Husband mutters something, but I can’t hear him because I am trying to breathe. I go back onto the front porch for a minute to clear my lungs, slamming the door behind me. Try to calm down, this stupid little kitchen project has dragged on longer than anticipated, but I know that we are nearing the end.

8:15 pm: walk in the door, rushing to the tissue box to grab a handful to hold over my nose. Attempt to breathe. Look in kitchen to see husband kneeling on the floor, sanding something. I rush to our bedroom, grab a handkerchief to hold over my face, and open the window. I am coughing. Husband mutters something else and opens the back door, stomping as he goes.

8:20 pm: walk into kitchen to see what is going on. Husband has been sanding something in the fridge cubby, but it’s not just sawdust in the house. Nor is it sheet rock dust. I don’t know what he was sanding, but it can’t be good to breathe, and he isn’t even wearing a dust mask. I am irritated, and hungry. Pot roast is still in the crock pot, very much dried out. Vegetables are colorless and mushy, not surprising after thirteen hours. I begin to put them into containers, separating the onions out so I can make gravy. I shove bits and pieces into my mouth as I go, famished.

8:25 pm: Husband mutters that “this is going to stink, too” as he applies spray adhesive to a section of flooring. I tell him it wasn’t the odor, it was the nasty dust that he was creating that was so awful. He seems irritated that I am irritated. Whatever.

8:35 pm: Gravy won’t come together. Husband has fled to take a shower. I am done. Done, done, done. Brown dust covers EVERYTHING. I wash the cat’s water dish, the fruit, and a few random things. I don’t know where to start. I sweep the kitchen and hallway, gathering up the superfine dust. I throw out candy that was in an open bowl. I feel like crying, it’s all just too much. Everything will need to be cleaned, from the ceiling on down.

9:05 pm: I grab my book and go to bed, hoping tomorrow will be better. Husband is watching a video on his phone, ignores me. I have no energy. I read, then fall asleep sometime near 10:30.

Wednesday, 6 am: alarm goes off. I don’t want to get up, but pull myself out of bed and get ready for work. I turn on the shower, then see that the plant in the bathroom looks pretty dry (not to mention covered with dust), so I grab a cup of water and step up onto the toilet to water the plant, slamming my knee into the corner of the tile counter as I do so. Some swearing ensues. Shower, dress, comb hair.

6:45 am: after searching the house for several minutes, I suddenly realize I left my cell phone at the Scout meeting last night. Gather knitting stuff together for commute, see that the market bag project is almost done so I prep a new one – a baby sweater for a relative! Gather yarn (a lovely, dark forest green), pattern, a package of stitch markers that fit the needle, and quickly cast on. Shove project in a bag.

7:15 am: head out the door. Miss listening to a podcast, since I don’t have my phone. Instead listen to the roar of traffic. Not quite the same. Plus, knee hurts.

7:36 am: get on the train, realize that I forgot my book at home (I usually read at lunch). Finish knitting the market bag.

7:55 am: Do eight rows of the green baby sweater, carefully avoiding hitting the woman next to me with my needles, add the stitch markers in the ninth row, and begin the tenth row – but the stitch markers won’t transfer onto the other needle, they won’t fit. Confused, I take a marker off, dropping it on the floor accidentally. Swear quietly, as there is no room to look for the dropped marker. Examine the knitting a little more closely, and realize that I have been knitting with two very different sized needles – a US 4 and a US 7… The stitch markers fit onto the 4 just fine, but won’t fit the 7. Have no idea how I managed to knit EIGHT ROWS without noticing. Sigh heavily. Give up and shove sweater back into my bag.

8:15 am: walk into the office. Remember that we have four-hour strategic planning meeting starting at 9. Sigh heavily. I forgot to eat breakfast.

1:15 pm: meeting ends, was a great session. Need to get out of the office, though; get a little fresh air, take a break. Walk. Contemplate sending husband a peace-making text, remember I don’t have my phone.

1:30 pm: visit the yarn store. Touch lots of soft, squishy fiber. A little yarn therapy goes a long ways. Pick out yarn for a hat to match my new coat, and yarn for another baby sweater (in a cream color). Buy new size 7 needles so I can work on the green baby sweater on the train home. Cautiously optimistic that the rest of the day will go smoothly. Please, let it go smoothly.

4 pm: so far, so good.

5:15 pm: time to go home. See that it’s raining, and I left my umbrella (as well as the hood to my coat) at home. Sigh heavily. Not exactly looking forward to dry pot roast and mushy veggie leftovers for dinner. Wonder if I should bother washing down the inside of the house yet. Wonder when new cabinets will be ready. Remember that tomorrow I have an eye exam. Oh, and I need to swing by the library to return a book.

I need a vacation.


About wonkydonkey

You want random? You got it. Mostly knitting and gardening, with some home improvements, pets, baking, family, and the occasional bad joke thrown in for good measure. This blog is mine; it is a place where I can insist upon proper grammar or break my own rules and degrade into slang on a whim. Either way, it's still mine. I love the Internet.
This entry was posted in Family nonsense, House stuff, Knitting & Crochet, Pet Peeves, Random Thoughts. Bookmark the permalink.

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