Jan. 31st, 2011

duckduckthrall: (Default)
Oh my frigging God.

Somehow, when faced with a bajillion things to pack, you don't realize how much better off you are than when your parents come trumpeting in at the last minute to help you finish. I mean, good God, I get that there's mess. THIS is what I've been dealing with since Day 1. However, the fact that there is garbage everywhere, and Ruy doesn't sort anything, or put anything away, *hence* the garbage everywhere, is not *my* fault. I have been trying my absolute best here. I mean, come the fuck on. The fact that this apartment is even packed is thanks to me.

I get that my mom isn't feeling well, and frankly, neither am I, but could she take her frustration out on someone else, please? I never figured my *dad* would be the calm one when it comes to cleaning out the apartment. He hasn't yelled at me once.

...*Ruy*'s dad, however, is about to disown him. Which, lovely. But do it after the move, okay? Thanks.

Well, it's the next day, also known as moving day, and I *somehow* got enlisted to stay and finish cleaning the apartment, which, what? This was specifically why I did *not* want to stay. Because I would end up doing all the heavy-duty cleaning. And look, here I am, doing the heavy cleaning.

I would never have guessed quite how much I hate cleaning floors, until I was on my hands and knees, cleaning floors. *Why* do the floors need to be scrubbed? Why do the windows need to be cleaned? I'm not even tall enough to reach the top of the windows, and half of the dirt is on the *outside*. Cleaning actual fixtures makes sense. Bathtubs, toilets, hell, even light switches. That kind of cleaning makes sense. *Vacuuming* makes sense (though the spelling of the word really doesn't). This other stuff is just random.

Okay, so two rooms are completely done, windows included (well, the second one doesn't have windows, for which I am quite thankful). Next comes the cleaning of the bathroom, which was sort of half-cleaned yesterday. No hardcore scrubbing, but I do have to put on gloves, which I hate something fierce because they make my hands dry. I have to get *in* a bathtub to clean a shower curtain that was never clean to begin with. I have to clean the toilet for the 47 millionth time. However, I think I might be done hand-scrubbing floors. That's good, right? Right.

Word Count: 419
Word Count to Date: 21886
duckduckthrall: (Default)
I think tacos are overrated.

...

Wait, no I don't. I just can't eat them right now.

Well, the move is complete. The half we had to do now, anyway. Everything is either in storage, or at our respective parental houses/apartments. Hopper is residing at Ruy's mom's apartment, at least for the moment, and Peggles and Tessa are at my parents, settling in like they've always lived there.

I made the executive decision yesterday morning that I would stay until the bitter end, helping to finish the cleaning and moving, instead of having my mom pick me up in the late afternoon. I did it all on the promise that Ruy would buy me underwear and deodorant (all of my clothes and toiletries went home with my parents on Saturday). Which was why I found myself at the Sears at Pacific Centre, getting half-price socks, half-price underwear, and half-price clearance shirts. And then at London Drugs, buying the only deodorant that doesn't make my underarms itch (and it's tea-tree oil scented!), and everything I would need to have the world's greatest shower at the very end of the day at Mariana's. It was during this trek that I discovered that going for long walks when the rest of your body already hurts, does not endear your ankles or already-failing arches to you.

But, I'm skipping ahead. The last I wrote was just before I cleaned the first bathroom. My mom had already given it a cursory wipedown on Saturday, so I didn't need to do any hardcore scrubbing. I think I may have inhaled a few too many fumes, however. Then, floors were vacuumed, Swiffered, and wet-Swiffered, and windows were washed. I hate windows. Another bathroom was scrubbed, and the living room half-finished (it was still half-full of stuff). There wasn't a muscle that didn't ache, and I somehow managed to do all of this on one white mocha, and a vitamin water. I quite literally forgot I needed to eat, and it's not like my stomach reminded me. Considering that it was too busy being yet another muscle that hurt.

When the living room was half-finished, I left to go shopping and to injure my feet, the latter unintentionally. I sped home afterward, and yet *still* Ruy and his dad managed to beat me back to the apartment. The rest of the living room got packed, the moving van loaded, and Ruy's dad sent on his way (with the moving van, to Mariana's). Ruy and I finally lay down on our soon to be tossed rug in the middle of the living room, our backs simultaneously cracking, and very nearly couldn't get back up again. I was so hungry and weird by this time that everything was *hilarious*. But even laughing hurt. Ruy went to pick up food, and I finished the living room. I ate, while he cleaned the rest of the kitchen. The skin on my hands was absolutely *burning* by this point, probably due to all the cleaning stuff, and also the gloves. We took garbage out, we scrubbed walls, and by the time we were coming down with the last of our stuff, the landlord's minion had shown up for the handoff/checkout. Ruy and I brought two last boxes down to the lobby, I slumped in a chair, and we handed off the keys. WE GOT OUR DEPOSIT BACK! WOOOO! ALL OF THAT CLEANING WAS WORTH IT!

We called a taxi, and soon we were on our way to Mariana's. I finally had my long-awaited shower and teeth-brushing, and soon I was in my pyjamas and falling asleep. I then slept for 14 hours. I would have slept for more, but there's always going to bed early tonight.

And now, here I am at our old Starbucks on 10th. Everything still hurts, but the important thing is that I have a green tea latte. Oh, also, we're done, and I have a few days to relax before leaving for Europe. Also, EUROPE!

This week, I have a psychiatrist appointment (really good timing, *after* my 4 meltdowns during the move), a doctor's appointment (MORE PAINKILLERS THANK YOU GOD), and a hair-trimming. I also need to pick up travel insurance for Europe, sleep, play with the cats, and start unpacking at my parents' house. In between naps. Delicious, delicious naps.

Right now, I'd like nothing more than to be lying down again, but I did need to venture into the outside world at some point. Unfortunately for me.

Word Count: 751
Word Count to Date: 22637
duckduckthrall: (Default)
Now, back to our delicious flomp of consciousness, with the topics that I picked at random. I'm sincerely hoping that today's subject is things of which I would or would not want to learn the history. Mostly because that's the only one I really remember.

Crayons!

*pauses for a moment*

There's a guy sitting near me at Starbucks and he is either hitting on me, or just criticizing my cottage cheese eating habits. And he looks like Chakotay. Really, Chakotay? This is what you get up to after leaving Voyager?

*composes self*

Crayons. I think I actually own a book about the production of crayons, and maybe I even saw how crayons were produced on Reading Rainbow, but I'd still love to know who invented them, and what the hell they were thinking when they did it. "I know! Let's draw things. WITH WAX!"

Jack the Ripper. I mean, I know the general story, but I would love to sit down and watch a nice documentary on the information they've gathered. I tried reading the book by Patricia Cornwell once, but she's just SO WRONG about everything, or so I've heard from everyone who has ever read it. Anyone who dismisses Montague John Druitt right out of hand, is no friend of mine. Seriously. I want to know how many people he murdered, the main suspects, and other interesting factoids. I can't learn *all* my history from Sanctuary. Unfortunately.

Pickles. I want to know whose idea it was to put cucumbers in brine, and then eat the result. I mean, I get wanting to preserve your vegetables, but pickling? Who even came up with that as a preservation method?

The sewer system. This, I don't want to learn the history of. Really. I'm quite content with the knowledge that we don't just throw our waste out the window anymore, and that's all I ever really want to know. Possibly the only part that fascinates me is the engineering masterpiece that a sewer system would turn out to be. All those pipes. Avoiding fresh water. Oh. Also, while we're on the subject, nobody tell me precisely what a septic tank is, alright? I can live without knowing the fine details. Really.

Another thing I don't want to learn? Why they *ever* thought it was a good idea to test things on animals. That was a little random, but I don't want to know. Because I'd probably want to test things on their great, great, great grandchildren and so on, and see how *they* like it. Wow, that was harsh. But still. Animals are people too.

The brain. I've already learned what I need to know about the brain's history. I'd be content to learn about the brain's future, but I'm sufficiently tired of hearing brain theories. Call it a perk of having been a psychology student.

It's not really a history thing, but more something I'd like to know. What qualifies something as *art*? Not being an artist by any stretch of the imagination, I wouldn't know. I've seen art from different eras, and there's really nothing the *same* about them. I guess you could say the same about fashion, and what makes something trendy, but at least the overall effect of fashion is that everyone is still wearing clothes. WHAT IS ART?

Queens. Both actual reigning queens, and queen consorts. At some point last year, I became utterly fascinated with reading about the love lives of queens in Europe. My sister indulged my queenly fascination by buying me 3 books about starkly different queens for Christmas, which I just want to *eat*. I'm not so fascinated by the current British royal family, despite half of my heritage being English. Except maybe Queen Elizabeth II. I just can't stand what will be the next generation of the monarchy. Sorry, Prince Charles, but your ears, they are too big.

Tesla. I'm genuinely interested in reading a biography of Tesla. Someone has to have written one, right? At some point? I mean, he's the greatest electrical engineer to have ever lived (even if he does say so himself). Someone had to have taken up the torch (electric torch, even) and written about him. Or I will. Then I can be famous as the one who wrote the biography of Nikola Tesla. Also, he and I could agree (he while dead, me while alive), that magnetism is *indeed* electricity's bastard cousin.

Oh, here's another one I never want to learn about. Religion. Watching the people of the world treat each other like crap because of their beliefs is about the stupidest thing I can think of. I am by no means an atheist. I was baptized in the United Church of Canada, a combination of Methodist, Presbyterian, and Congregationalist forms of Christianity. I don't quite follow the traditional Christian "God is an old white male with a long beard" thought, mostly because I don't think God is Gandalf. Or Gandalf is God. Whichever. I'm basically fine with whatever people want to believe, unless it involves killing unnecessarily. But this isn't about what I believe. This is about whoever thought it was a good idea to get people to worship something in the first place. I desperately want to say Goa'ulds. It was Goa'ulds, wasn't it? They invented religion and made people kill each other, didn't they. Fucking System Lords.

...I just looked over at Mariana's bookshelf and noticed that she has a book called "History of Modern Art." I bet if I asked her, she could tell what art is. She also has a book on Strata Management. There's something I could live without knowing.

I could learn the history of computers over and over and over again and never get bored. I guess that's half of the reason why getting a degree in computer science was a good idea. The other was that I learned math I will likely never use in real life. But the important thing is, I will never get bored of learning the history of math and computer science. I may be useless at calculus, but tell me about the history behind it and you've got me hooked for at least forever.

The history of the word processor? Who invented italics? Who thought underlining titles was a good idea? Chocolate chips?

Word Count: 1052
Word Count to Date: 23689

February 2012

S M T W T F S
   1234
56 7891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
26272829   

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 09:06 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios