1. I’m having a bad day. Really a bad week. A bad month. And really, it hasn’t been a stellar year, either. At times like this, I have the opening song from Despicable Me running on constant loop, even though I typically hate that style of ‘music’. I’m normally a little morose in general, but it’s hitting me especially hard right now. I’ve been sick several times from several different issues over the past two weeks. And none of them is morning sickness, which I can at least try to rejoice over. It’s all mundane migraines and rubbish.
2. So our car’s AC is out. This is Texas. It’s May. No AC is very, very bad. It’s been fritzing out since the beginning of February, but because it was so intermittent that Himself didn’t believe me till mid-March. Due to business and the unseasonably lovely spring we’ve had, we’re only getting it into the mechanic’s today, after a couple of prior attempts were foiled by long wait times. If it’s in the compressor, I’m going to go huddle down in my closet and cry, then come out and try and cut another couple hundred dollars out of the monthly budget so we can pay it off quickly.
UPDATE: We seem to be very lucky, the mechanic just fixed a car with a similar issue that took four days to diagnose the problem, and he thinks it’s the same thing. It might still be expensive, but at least we won’t be without our vehicle for days while they figure out what’s wrong.
3. Our dining room floor was really filthy. So this morning, stuck at home with no car, I think “why not scrub the floor?” I don’t have an infant that needs frequent attention. I don’t have a freshly mobile crawler or toddler to come wandering into my cleaning. Theoretically, an almost 4 year old should be able to entertain himself for the thirty minutes of floor scrubbing without me having to put something on Netflix* to occupy him. In actuality it took an hour and a half to get it done with his constant interference and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and declarations that “he doesn’t want to be my family anymore.”
4. While scrubbing the floor, I found out that the bottom six inches of our back door frame are rotten. What the hell? This house isn’t even three years old! We haven’t had a hurricane or any flooding!! Last year we had a drought that caused horrible wildfires just north and west of us!!! I’m at a lost to come up with any possible reason that anything should be rotting our house. That’s not true. Builder incompetence is always plausible.
Himself is going to have to be the one to talk to them. I’m too furious.
5. I’m in the middle of rennovating our breakfast room. The house has a dining ‘room’ (which is really just an ugly chandelier hung in an awkwardly small location in the front of the living area (and it’s carpeted!) but we never use it. Our table is in the breakfast nook off the kitchen, and I shouldn’t say rennovated since the we’ve lived here for three years and the most decorating I’ve done is put up a bit of cast iron scroll work my sister gave me for my birthday.
Anyway, the windows face southwest, and, since the paper sticky blinds I bought fell down, the glare is brutal in the afternoon. So I bought this glorious batik to make roman shades for the windows. I’ve never made roman shades before, but it looks pretty simple, so I’m going to photoblog it and put up a tutorial when they’re done. If that sounds crazy, I admit that it is, but it’s how I work.
I also have a cheap and exciting plan for replacing the hideous light fixture that came in the breakfast. When I’m done, I’ll post before and after pictures of the room.
6. My child is a destructive, hyperactive, weird little perpetual motion machine. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. I’m afraid to inflict him on public school (or public school on him). But I don’t know if I’m up to homeschooling him either. He’s so terribly contrary.
He’s not all bad of course. But he’s really getting on my nerves today, and he won’t settle down to play with me without someone (usually me) getting hurt.
7. He won’t count 5 for some reason. It’s like living in a G rated Monty Python sketch. “One, two, three, four, six-” “FIVE” “five” *smarmy little smirk*. I need to dig out our plus holy hand grenade. Part of me frets about him not being smart, the other rest knows he’s doing it for pure entertainment value, but isn’t sure how to defuse it.
* Netflix is reserved for keeping him out of mommy’s hair during margarita time.
More more Quick Takes and less bad, bad days visit Jen @ Conversion Diary.