Well. Happy late Mother’s Day to all of you. I was quite glad to survive mine with only one trip to Home Depot and some strewing of tools all over the entryway floor. But at least I can open and close the front door now. I got almost nothing done yesterday besides the door, but whatever. I’ve been incredibly efficient this morning in the last 7 minutes, so that bodes well for the rest of the day. Maybe. I just realized what time it is. Fuck.
It’s OK. I will survive. I felt incredibly overwhelmed yesterday, even Saturday (hit 5 stops in 2 hours…no biggie) and last night could’ve used an assist or five.
So yeah, there was this…
That is a hole to the outdoors…it didn’t start out that way. I’d brought half the groceries up and then went to grab the handle to go back outside, and it pulled apart. It had been loose before, but not heinously so. In fact, I’ve tightened it before. My dad will tell you it’s because I’m hard on doors, but honestly, WTF, you should be able to pull on a door handle and not have it fall to pieces. I suspect it’s because it needs to be attached at the bottom too, but dad said no, it was a pain and unnecessary (I’m gonna do that bit sometime soon…OK, maybe summer). My dad will tell you all breakage and damage is because I’m hard on stuff, and maybe that’s true. But I’ve never had a handle pull apart like that and I’ve opened a lot of doors over and over and over again. So I think that’s bullshit.
After analyzing the pieces (because when the other side dropped, pieces flew…pieces that had previously been attached and now were not) and calling the ex, who gave his analysis of “I don’t know how the fuck this goes back together” and “You seem to be missing at least one piece” (goes digging around the pots and plants that are around the front door, like I haven’t already done that shit), and having the debate of Go Buy Another One (they ain’t cheap) or Call a Locksmith (they ain’t cheap either), I drove off to Home Depot and found the same damn thing and installed it in about 14 seconds flat.
And yes, the door needs painting and I should probably pick up all that crap on the floor, but I was sort of emotionally a disaster at that point. So there. I left it. Walked the fuck away.
Mother’s Day. Sigh. My ass. Girlchild posted a photo on Instagram which is kinda how we roll…
My students will tell you that’s how I take all photos with them. Like I know it’s gonna be a bad photo, so let’s OWN that bitch.
After making lunches for the whole week (stupid recipes that lie and say it will take 30 minutes to make this…in whose world? The one where someone’s helping you by chopping it all up? And why does yours look so colorful? Mine is decidedly brown. With brown overtones.) and dinner and reading while eating, I said Fuck You to my job and wandered into the studio for some me time.
Might as well iron this thing.
So I did…
It’s very meditative, this ironing stuff.
And it’s kinda cool that I’m doing this now, because I drew this on the flight home from dropping off the girlchild at college, and she’s done on Thursday, though I won’t see her for another 10 days because she’s gonna visit her cousins first. So I guess this ushers her home.
I stopped thinking about parents and students and the girlchild stressing out over finals and other shit and crap and doors and a house that needs more maintenance than I can handle.
I ironed the stuff in her hair separately…
Then plopped it on. It was almost midnight at that point (there’s math in the clouds by the way…I totally love that).
So I made the intelligent decision to go to bed instead of continuing to iron…even though I wanted to. Hopefully that will make me a less irritable person today, although it’s hard to say. There are 28 days of school left, and I’m feeling every single one. I have a ton of money-making work to do tonight (art CAN be money-making, but usually not), so I don’t know how much time I’ll get for ironing. But there will be some. I swear it. On the crap that is still strewn all over my entryway floor, I swear it.