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Dec. 5th, 2012 06:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeI'm trying to Memrise and my brain is doing that half-awake thing where instead of the language I want, it grabs for some other non-English language. It's like I have one right hand and six left hands, and instead of the left hand I want I end up using a different one and knocking the water glass I was reaching for over. Le sigh.
This is clearly a sign I should just go freaking shower and stretch and wake up already.
We actually have something resembling healthy food in the house, which is a minor miracle. Pot pies again and soups, so not entirely healthy especially when you consider sodium count, but it'll do. Other than that, it's probably about time to start picking up and battling the entropy in the apartment, and maybe that'll happen tonight after we watch pilots. Almost done with pilots! Then comes the polling. I have no idea what kind of poll numbers we're going to get, it might just be a handful of constant readers or it might be a large number of people. We have no idea. Plus, "Vince" and "Dave" might retweet us again, in which case it'll be a huge swath of Haven fans. It's a mystery! Isn't it fun?
Kind of fun. I have no idea who's puppetting those accounts, several theories but no concrete knowledge, therefore I have no idea whose attention we've gotten. I also have no idea what our relationship with them is, other than, they tweet at/retweet us pretty much more than anyone else, almost with a two to one ratio, maybe, for the next highest number of retweets. Which might just be a product of there's two of us, or. Something. I don't know. It's fun and unnerving all at once. I'm not used to having official attention! I have no idea what's going on or what I should be doing, and it rankles, not having a roadmap for this. Not so much that I'm completely off my game all the time, but every time they talk to us it throws me slightly off for the next hour. Particularly when one of my tweets is a pithy/snarky comment involving calling "Vince" a slightly sarcastic endearment, and I don't expect him to pay it any attention, and of course that ends up being the one he replies to today. My head hurts.
Scheduling and getting routines back in today, and I learned how to light the pilot light on the hot water heater last night! It wasn't broken, it was just a device that makes sure you really truly mean to light the pilot light rather than oops a spark or a flame got in there. So there's that. Once the boiler gets hooked up we'll have hot water and heat and everything, and that should be today or tomorrow. I don't imagine they have all that much in the way of stuff to do. Our potrack is hung, our above-the-sink light is hung (and we're going to end up switching those two eventually, I think, and our chandelier is hung. And is actually lower than I expected. Oops. Well, it'll probably also be over the dining room table, and I can walk under it safely. The boy will just have to walk around. And at that rate I guess we'll leave the ceiling fan/light up in the other room and I'll figure out something else. Maybe. It does look cool, though. Maybe the boy will get used to walking around?
This is the somewhat weird thing about being a short person living with a tall person. I can walk around under the potrack and the chandelier just fine, and sure some things require stepladders but I can live with that. But I also have to consider that I need things that are going to get walked under to be a foot and a half or so higher than I would for me. Which is surprisingly difficult to do!
Anyway. So, that's the heat and hot water heater solved, and now we're down to small fiddly stuff. And it's not just me with the height thing, the shower head for the downstairs shower comes about to the boy's nose. Seriously, I think he's going to have to duck to get under the spray. We're going to replace it with one of those removable/mobile hoses, but I was deeply amused when we poked at the shower and discovered that. That's going to get replaced, and the light above the shower needs to get fixed/put back/replaced, I'm not sure which of those is true. And there is a huge, huge list of other things to do that are relatively minor (replace various fixtures and lights, paint, baseboard heating, clean everything, sand stuff). The short of it is, we have no end of small things to work on and I love it.
And soon we'll be moved in and living there and I will roll around the entire house and have a blast and revel in the fact that it is my fucking house. This is the kind of house I dreamed about as a kid, and then I grew up and decided no, no way could we ever afford a house like this, and then we did. Because the economy sucked balls, because no one else seemed to want it, because doing ALL THE FIXES turned out to be manageable at least, the big stuff immediately and the smaller stuff easy enough ourselves over time. I still can't believe this is happening. I have a fucking house. With a foyer. And a craft room. And a great hall. I have a great hall you guys. I have a fucking parlor. I have a kitchen the size of my apartment's goddamn living room.
Yes, this has become the all Murderboarding/house stuff all the time journal. Why do you ask. And yes, I'm careening between ughexhausted and DO ALL THE THINGS. Eventually, this too shall pass.
This is clearly a sign I should just go freaking shower and stretch and wake up already.
We actually have something resembling healthy food in the house, which is a minor miracle. Pot pies again and soups, so not entirely healthy especially when you consider sodium count, but it'll do. Other than that, it's probably about time to start picking up and battling the entropy in the apartment, and maybe that'll happen tonight after we watch pilots. Almost done with pilots! Then comes the polling. I have no idea what kind of poll numbers we're going to get, it might just be a handful of constant readers or it might be a large number of people. We have no idea. Plus, "Vince" and "Dave" might retweet us again, in which case it'll be a huge swath of Haven fans. It's a mystery! Isn't it fun?
Kind of fun. I have no idea who's puppetting those accounts, several theories but no concrete knowledge, therefore I have no idea whose attention we've gotten. I also have no idea what our relationship with them is, other than, they tweet at/retweet us pretty much more than anyone else, almost with a two to one ratio, maybe, for the next highest number of retweets. Which might just be a product of there's two of us, or. Something. I don't know. It's fun and unnerving all at once. I'm not used to having official attention! I have no idea what's going on or what I should be doing, and it rankles, not having a roadmap for this. Not so much that I'm completely off my game all the time, but every time they talk to us it throws me slightly off for the next hour. Particularly when one of my tweets is a pithy/snarky comment involving calling "Vince" a slightly sarcastic endearment, and I don't expect him to pay it any attention, and of course that ends up being the one he replies to today. My head hurts.
Scheduling and getting routines back in today, and I learned how to light the pilot light on the hot water heater last night! It wasn't broken, it was just a device that makes sure you really truly mean to light the pilot light rather than oops a spark or a flame got in there. So there's that. Once the boiler gets hooked up we'll have hot water and heat and everything, and that should be today or tomorrow. I don't imagine they have all that much in the way of stuff to do. Our potrack is hung, our above-the-sink light is hung (and we're going to end up switching those two eventually, I think, and our chandelier is hung. And is actually lower than I expected. Oops. Well, it'll probably also be over the dining room table, and I can walk under it safely. The boy will just have to walk around. And at that rate I guess we'll leave the ceiling fan/light up in the other room and I'll figure out something else. Maybe. It does look cool, though. Maybe the boy will get used to walking around?
This is the somewhat weird thing about being a short person living with a tall person. I can walk around under the potrack and the chandelier just fine, and sure some things require stepladders but I can live with that. But I also have to consider that I need things that are going to get walked under to be a foot and a half or so higher than I would for me. Which is surprisingly difficult to do!
Anyway. So, that's the heat and hot water heater solved, and now we're down to small fiddly stuff. And it's not just me with the height thing, the shower head for the downstairs shower comes about to the boy's nose. Seriously, I think he's going to have to duck to get under the spray. We're going to replace it with one of those removable/mobile hoses, but I was deeply amused when we poked at the shower and discovered that. That's going to get replaced, and the light above the shower needs to get fixed/put back/replaced, I'm not sure which of those is true. And there is a huge, huge list of other things to do that are relatively minor (replace various fixtures and lights, paint, baseboard heating, clean everything, sand stuff). The short of it is, we have no end of small things to work on and I love it.
And soon we'll be moved in and living there and I will roll around the entire house and have a blast and revel in the fact that it is my fucking house. This is the kind of house I dreamed about as a kid, and then I grew up and decided no, no way could we ever afford a house like this, and then we did. Because the economy sucked balls, because no one else seemed to want it, because doing ALL THE FIXES turned out to be manageable at least, the big stuff immediately and the smaller stuff easy enough ourselves over time. I still can't believe this is happening. I have a fucking house. With a foyer. And a craft room. And a great hall. I have a great hall you guys. I have a fucking parlor. I have a kitchen the size of my apartment's goddamn living room.
Yes, this has become the all Murderboarding/house stuff all the time journal. Why do you ask. And yes, I'm careening between ughexhausted and DO ALL THE THINGS. Eventually, this too shall pass.