Normally I sleep from 2:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., which is the second most dysfunctional your sleep pattern can get.
So since I did not take my go to sleep pillage last night (two benadryl and a melatonin) and demonstrated rather effectively that sleep will not occur until morning when I do that, I'm just not going to take them anymore. NO MORE. It's dumb. I think they knock me out so deep that I sleep forever, once I finally get to sleep. It's dumb, she said again, for emphasis.
This could be an iffy week.
I look and feel like someone punched me in both eyes simultaneously. Fabulous! I'm running around getting stuff done, though. Work, most importantly. Though I still have more to do. And yard work. I committed various types of agriculture, including irrigation. I'm a fan of the agriculture, I tell you what.
I have a million grapes coming in back there, oh boy! Grapes! They are teeny tiny infinitesimally small little green nubbins right now. The potato plants are gigantic and thriving and about to have flowers. I did not know about potato flowers but it stands to reason. The onions and shallots look beautiful. The two boughten tomato plants are covered with flowers but I'd really rather see them get taller before they come in. But that may not happen. And ten million baby roma tomato plants came up from the seeds from last week's pizza, planted in pots. Yay! And this week's seeds got planted directly in the barren patch where the strawberries never grew.
Agriculture! I told you! Yesterday, or possibly the day before, I hoed. Hoeing is awesome, especially if you've been bending over and pulling up weeds. The hoe is an invention of someone who thought, Heck with this, I'm sick of bending over and pulling up weeds! Like, thousands of years ago. I love that. And it's still a total delight every time I remember, Oh yeah, our species invented agriculture a long time ago, with useful tools and stuff, and also I own them, so let's go crazy and be a tool-user!
What else have I been up to? Hung the big mirror. I actually put in the hanger (one of those fancy three-nail kinds) weeks ago, but it wasn't feeling sturdy enough for me. It wasn't in the stud. So I just leaned the mirror. But now I hung it up. Living on the edge! It would suck if my grandmother's mirror fell and smashed. It would suck worse if it did it while I was asleep. These hooks (probably the exact hooks, come to think of it) survived holding that same mirror up through a six point something earthquake so maybe it'll be okay.
Several more things still to hang. Why so slack about this, home-renter? Hup hup.
Well I'll tell you why! Because this house is kind of random as to placing of the studs! It is pre-building code, is all I can figure, because they're at set intervals now and have been for a long time. Before that I guess you could just do whatever. And so it's hard to find the studs. Unpredictable studs!
Which reminds me that I also set up my Bourne Identity shotgun shells in the desk drawer. I have no idea why this is such a compelling image to me but my brother gets it too. Where are the shells? In the desk drawer. And I got out the oldest, most analog shotgun, the one that actually takes those shells, see, and put it somewhere. There! Now I can stop thinking about it! It will never ever ever ever be used.
I also need to hang up the beautiful Winchester that doesn't work. Objet d'art! It's been on the quilt rack for months. That is sub-optimal because guns can rust on your quilts, see.
I've been arguing with the imaginary therapist type person in my head about the guns. Therapist type people are adamant that having guns in the house increases the risk of suicide enormously. There is absolutely zero risk of suicide, let me just tell you right now. And near-zero risk of defensive use of them either, to be honest. I wouldn't say exactly zero because who can really say, but as close to zero as makes no difference.
In the exceedingly unlikely event of a scary dude breaking into the house, my dog would bark his head off and scary dude would flee. I mean, come on. In the even yet still more unlikely event that the imaginary scary dude did not flee, I'm infinitely more likely to whack someone with a frying pan. Like Rapunzel! Or one of the many axes, hatchets, and machetes scattered around the place. Jiminy, this place is full of edged weaponry, through no fault of my own. I did not buy any of them except the one that's a saw (unsharpened) on one side and machete (also unsharpened) on the other. All came from uncles or my brother.
Anyway, I continue arguing to the imaginary therapist in my head, the thing that is most dangerous to keep in your house is an actual man. You're much more likely to be injured by a domestic male human who lives there than by anything else. Hazardous! It's true, check the statistics. So I think not having one of those should totally cancel out the assorted weaponry. There!
Oh, I have to hang up the super dull ancient crappy dress sword over the mirror that also isn't hung up in front of the front door. Jeez! Or I need a troll's leg umbrella stand to put it in.
I did vacuum a small portion of the house. The foyer, to be exact. I used the hand held vacuum, which means bending over exactly like when you pull weeds when you forget about the existence of the hoe. I took the real vacuum apart last night and installed the new belt, which promptly broke. Whoops! Fortunately they come two to a package. So I put the old one back in. And it made that horrendous rattling noise again, like a machine that is eating itself. This means either a) I take it apart much more than you're supposed to, which is none, and try to fix the actual motor, hoping that some random loose piece of plastic broke off in there somewhere en route between Maine and Oregon, or b) I take it to the vacuum repair shop, where they will remind me it cost $45 new six years ago and fixing it will probably cost more, or c) I go buy a new vacuum, which will also be blue like this one is. Was. May or may not be. It's blue, but it may or may not have a continued existence in my household, is all.
Wow! I feel dreadful! Yes!
I can stay awake essentially forever. It's true. I don't have that thing where you get sleepy. Not usually. It's rare.
I'm going to try very hard to enforce official bedtimes in the normal awake/asleep person time frames. It's an ongoing project. It's very quiet here at night (yay!) so that helps an awful lot. I'll probably sleep better when my neighbors on both sides get back from their vacations. Also I'll wake up a lot earlier because boy do they get up early and get out there and start doing things six feet from my sleeping head! At perfectly normal times of day--nothing wrong with it. Wakey wakey!
Are you so excited that I'm getting television? And internet? Decent internet with lots and lots of ability to watch streaming video and whatnot? I KNOW!!! I'm deliriously excited! I'm planning my World Cup knitting with great anticipation. Maybe I'll even build the arms back on the couch! And the back! I brought all the taken apart pieces. Could be a good idea! Who can say?
I wish I had a recumbent exercise bike, though. Boy is it hard for me to sit still all that time. And also it's unhealthy. I'll keep checking Goodwill and those kinds of places. I would accept an elliptical instead or in addition to a recumbent exercise bike. Remember that spring and summer I watched the entire run of Buffy while riding my bike and got all svelte? I know!
Alternatively, and much more likely, I'll move my real bike and the wind trainer out by the tv for the duration.
I'm so excited, I'm considering altering and moving furniture! Wooooooo!
2014 World Cup! Last time I got tv: 2010, in Maine, last World Cup. Time before that: 2006, in L.A., World Cup before that. Time before that: when I lived here before, 2002, the World Cup before that. Before that I watched it with my heinous ex for the very first time! I know! Historical! Memorable! Locational!
Do you know how long it takes to vacuum a square yard of carpet with a hand-held vacuum that has a two by 3/4 inch opening? I wouldn't care, except for internet/tv guy coming over. And the untidiness does bother me some. Just not very much.
The giant sewing mess in the living room bothers me much more. Got to pack that up! And then, I strongly suspect, go the heck to sleep. Oh my giddy aunt.
Do you realize that June is tomorrow? It's already June where Sumara is! Aaaaah! June! Already?
I totally have to start knitting those chain mail tunics for the niece and nephew, and, now that I think of it, for my incipient great-niece or great-nephew. Must also acquire "World's Greatest Grandma" mug and/or appliqued sweatshirt for my 49 year old sister, accompanied by wicked laugh. She is much younger than her kid's dad, and is not the biological mother, as you may have guessed. It doesn't make me enjoy the wicked laugh any less, though! Mwahahahahahaha!
I'm about to be a great-aunt! I have always longed to be an eccentric great-aunt and now I get to be one! Hurray!!! I am sure the child's parents will appreciate the tiny knitted chainmail tunic for their new offspring! With its tiny tabard! The sheepy sweater is all packed up and ready to drop in the mail as soon as we have touchdown, have no fear. Proper baby presents are essential. But wacky ones are fun. Ooooh, I have to knit the baby one of those winged Viking hats I knitted everyone else! Yes yes yes!
Right, back to work, more to do. But fun times ahead!