You gotta plastic house. . . .

July 28, 2011


Sitting here.

Again.

Waiting.

Again.

For the contractors.

Again.

They did call yesterday to inform us that they'd be here today.

This morning.

So I'm up. Frankie out. Tikka not because she's being stubborn and stayed upstairs, laying on the floor, head down on paws draped over the stair.

Her new default pose.

Eventually her need to pee will trump her stubbornness and she will come to me with that look in her eye, pawing me incessantly.

Showered.

Cars moved out of the driveway to ensure maximum work output.

If they're in the driveway, they're closer to the house.

Fewer steps to the front door.

Maximizing potential production.

Usually they're here by 8.15 am.

It's now 8.22 am.

Concern is already stepping up to the plate.






After I stumbled downstairs this morning, I noticed that the couch. . .

. . .the previously covered in plastic couch. . .

was no longer covered in plastic.

Instead of plastic, a furry brown Goblet was laying on the couch.

Initially, she was lying on top of the plastic in an effort to return some balance and normality to her lately-fraught-with-conflict days.

But apparently, the plastic wasn't all that comfortable.

Or at least not comfortable enough for Her Nibs, the Grande Dame of Dawne and Stephen's Abode.

So, she started her campaign to get rid of the plastic yesterday.

Ripping a hole in the carefully taped plastic shroud covering the couch and crawling underneath it to rest her diva self on the comfort of the cushions underneath.

Terrifying Stephen that she would potentially suffocate herself lying underneath the plastic.

Taking it upon himself to assist Miss Goblet in her mission, he completely removed the plastic.

Leaving me to explain to the contractors what happened to their carefully placed plastic couch shroud.

And trying to convince them that it's disappearance really was the result of the machinations of one, 16 pound cat on a mission.

Think that'll work?







Yesterday I was simply and utterly out of sorts.

Operating on the assumption that Stephen was coming to the library with me, I waited for him.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By noon, after I had been up at 7.45 to take Keith to work for his 8.30 Reel Babies shift. . .

. . .as an aside, they're now training my son for Reel Babies.

Imagining Keith setting up changing tables and toys for tots was the only bright spot in an otherwise frustrating day.

. . .I realized that Stephen had no intention of going into work.

I should have just left.

But for some reason I didn't.

A day sitting, reading Constructing Grounded Theory: A Practical Guide Through Qualitative Analysis.

An interesting book to be sure.

I'll be using it this fall for my Advanced Qualitative Research Methods course.

Reading it seems to be a good idea.

But reading all day about initial, focused and axial coding while sitting still is something I'm not well equipped for anymore.

Before the weight loss (I can see my life framed as Before the Weight Loss and After the Weight Loss), I could sit for hours upon hours, days upon days reading, writing.

No arithmetic.

Everyone has their limits.

However, by 7.00 pm last evening, I'd had enough.

My constitution was screaming for vigorous movement.

Something.

Anything.

So I turned off my computer, grabbed by ipod and went for a vigorous hour long walk, which, by the time I returned home had restored me to some semblance of peace and tranquility.

Making me realize, even more than I already knew, that I am a creature of habit.

I was worried that Stephen would be the one to struggle with the upheaval and chaos in our home.

Apparently, no so.

Me.

I'm the one clawing at the confinement on the inside.

Railing against the clausterphobicness of the house, the walls getting smaller and smaller with each passing day of inactivity.

(They are still not here, its 8.43 am with no presence and no phone call. They said they would be here, they didn't say what time. I guess we should have asked)

In addition to having limited access within my house, the usual summer doldrums have set in.

Highlighting the further realization that I like, need, must have the ebb and flow of the academic year.

The cadence of a day that is structured with time alone and time with others.

Teaching, meeting, talking with students.

Keep me sane.

And allow me to enjoy the time I have alone and by myself.

Which is why I am so drawn to the library Commons.

The background noise of other people's conversations washing over me.

No incentive or invitation to participate.

Just reveling in the comforting glow of the white noise.

Being around people.

Eavesdropping perhaps.

So this is my plan for the day.

Regardless of when the contractors arrive, I am leaving shortly for the comforting embrace of the library, the smell of Starbucks coffee hanging in the air combined with enveloping scent of old books.

Much better than sitting in the kitchen all day, working granted, but lacking the connective sociability of just being around other people.

THE CONTRACTORS ARE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Which means I'm leaving for the library.

As soon as I have a snack.

Alas, they were just delivering gyprock.

Not staying to install it.

Apparently, that may happen this afternoon, but it's more likely tomorrow.

I don't know how much more of this I can take.




Title Lyric: Plastic by Alanis Morissette