My dad always gives me shit for not getting up early in the morning (despite the fact that I do when I need to, like if there’s a soccer game or I have to go to work). But he falls asleep by 8 PM every night, and that’s when I’m just getting started. I am a night owl. Always have been. And last night, I was on an ironing roll and felt like just staying up until I finished…until I looked at the clock and realized if I did that, I’d be going to bed around 3 AM. Which would be fine if the world didn’t wake me up around daylight with noise and dogs who need to pee and Kitten, who will hurdle me until I feed her. So I went to bed. At a semi-reasonable hour. And I’ve been up long enough to feed and pee things, living things, and make some tea, and wonder why the world is so fucking bright (ugh…artists like nighttime. Artists like me anyway. Semi-vampiric artists who burn when light touches them.). But the other two adults here are NOT awake. Amusing since I went to bed AFTER both of them.
I wonder if I can make one of them empty the dishwasher. AND put the dishes away. Gonna try anyway.
So I ironed for about 5 hours yesterday…and that doesn’t count the ironing I did the night before that was technically also on the 28th of December. It was good because I finally stopped grinding my teeth. My jaw has ached since school got out with stress over the holidays and grading and money and everything, but now that I know the cure is to iron for 5 hours…yeah. That ain’t gonna work most days. But it’s a step in the right direction. Art brain mode…meditative state.
So sometime before the soccer game in the rain, but after I had prepped dinner, I started ironing…
I don’t remember what I did the rest of the day. I’m sure it was very important. Oh yeah! I went to the gym. That was important. And I tried to enter an art show, but perimenopausal brain (which is amazingly spacey and stupid and forgets shit all the time) couldn’t read instructions, so instead of taking 20 minutes, it took all morning and the help of the nice lady on the other end of the email, who probably thinks I’m a total space cadet, and apparently, sometimes I am. Sigh. GIANT ASS SIGH. I hate when my brain does not behave well.
THEN…at some point after showering and eating, then I started ironing.
The rug on the other side of the bathtub. I went to the soccer game in the middle of all of that. Alumni game, so the alumni play against the current team. It was amusing. Girlchild held her own. I hope she remembers how much she likes to play when she gets back to college, and finally goes to the coach and maybe sings her a song and brings her baked goods and begs to shag balls and maybe even try out.
Then I started on the bathtub, which was annoyingly complicated, because you have to consider how everything overlaps, and I didn’t do the best job EVER on tracing pieces logically, but then I always think that, and maybe that has something to do with perimenopausal brain’s influence over art brain.
This is where I first thought…hmmm…probably should call it a day. Finished the water. Good stopping point before I start doing the fleshy bits.
Yeah right. Even Kitten knew we were in it for the long haul.
I kept going…until I got two legs and a foot and most of an arm. Oh yeah, and a floating uterus. Because honestly, the way mine behaves sometimes, it would just be better if it were removable. Oh, I know you can take them out, but mine isn’t doing much but producing hormones in a psychotic manner at this point, so I’m willing to wait it out.
Today? Well, I have to do some stuff midday that might require me to shower first (dammit), but then I’m coming back and making lasagne (sauce has to cook for an hour, but I don’t have to be right NEXT to it for it to do that) and ironing the damn torso. And maybe the head, although that wine glass has way too many pieces in it. Glass. It’s a fucker to draw and iron.
So still off schedule, because I was supposed to be done ironing yesterday and hopefully start stitching down (bwa ha ha), but if I can finish ironing today? Is that possible? There’s a lot of complicated stuff left, but only about 300 pieces. So three or four hours. And then ironing down to the background. Eh. Maybe? Stitch down tomorrow…then sandwich? I might still be able to pull this off. Except it means I’m pulling that old art brain maneuver where all I do is art and occasionally run the dishwasher or prep a meal. I don’t do anything else. I was going to grade a bit this week, and one period’s worth of one assignment does not really count as “a bit.” Aarrgh. We’ll see. Not in the mood right this second.
What I want to do is iron this sucker together. Like now. Despite the complaining tummy and the need to shower and the appointment in two hours and the full dishwasher and the living organisms who dammit just got into the shower. Bloody hell. Well there goes the hot water. Ugh. Note to self. Shower when you rise. Then you beat the younger generation to the hot water. By the time I remember that clearly, they’ll be gone again.