On Monday, I got to overhear my favorite 'hood conversation yet. It was late, like 11pm, on the train from downtown. A guy named Ro-ro got on and started talking to his friend (I didn't catch his name, but apparently friend's baby mama was stepping out with a guy named T-Man.) They complained about their baby's mamas (with apostrophe, Seattle style) from University stop 'til at least Columbia City. Much of it I didn't retain, but I give you this:
Ro-ro: I mean, we ain't even got a parenting plan! 'Cause she so stanky.
You're welcome.
Yesterday involved about an hour in the garden, most of it in the front yard. Within that hour, I chatted with four neighbors, helped one by lending my driveway to unload lumber in, introduced two other people, ran into an old acquaintance who lives a couple doors down, and said hello to two small business owners I know. It's a small town, minus the hicks.
Then I came inside to discover the Bad Cat had pooped in the middle of the bed, on my mostly-antique-and-finished-by-me-goddamn-beloved-heirloom-even-though-I-will-not-have-kids quilt. While I was changing linen/cursing/de-stinkifying the room, I smashed my hand in a heavy cedar trunk lid. It still hurts a lot, and is moderately swollen. The cat is fine, and no longer pissed off about whatever it was that pissed him off in the first place. And the quilt is fine. The hand is not. And, the sheets weren't even in the damned trunk like I thought they were. At times like these, it's best that I am the only human in the house, because then I just deal with it rather than having a temper tantrum while dealing. Sweetie fetched me a second ice pack, but it was just a ridiculous story by the time he got home.
I haven't written about the house in a long time, and still have never posted photos; I'll just have to do a big-ass flickr album for it. The kitchen cabinets go in next week; we have a sink, faucet, dishwasher and countertops all piled around in various places on the porch. The floors are 90% done, once the kitchen's all the way finished, one last coat will go on, it's all water-based so we don't have to move out. Kitchen and the new giant l-shaped room need painting, the l-room needs lighting (also in boxes) and Sweetie will be doing the doorway trim again, like he did for the basement. We also have a bit more electrical work (minor stuff), and a new marmoleum floor to go in the kitchen. Then we get our stuff out of storage and move in for the very last time. At some point, Sweetie and I build a little booth for our eating nook in the kitchen. But everything else--seriously, everything--that needs doing is outside, and not a big deal. The solar panel is insane, and you should be jealous. The heating system is awesome, too.
It's been 33 days since I've had a kitchen, but the trees (legal and illegal) are doing well, the bamboo and blackberries are disappeared, the raspberries are coming along, the lettuces are sprouting, the hummingbirds are loud and aggressive, and about 70% of the bulbs survived the tromping they got by the movers. Moss and ferns are thriving in the former glass shard garden on the north side of the house. Two kinds of worms are at work in what was hard-packed clay when we moved in. That is satisfying.
On a less-good note--in fact, shameful, considering my job--the guys at the RV Taco Bell now know us. Tonight we got free dessert empanadas, which involve two 1/4" apple cubes and some sort of glucose syrup wrapped in deep-fried white flour. Did I mention I miss my kitchen? I could make a much tastier diabetes origin point.