1 Wedding, 1 Funeral, and The Office Space Conundrum

Sorry for the brief pause, I was out of town all last week running the gamut of human experience. I attended the wedding of my childhood best friend to a wonderful man, organized and attended a memorial service for my Grandfather and got hit in the head with a lot of black walnuts tossed by a vengeful tree in West Michigan that is trying to ruin my Dad's life.

Imagine these bastards flying at your face while you are trying to rake! EEK!

The Grige is working his little behind off on a project right now, so I came home to an apartment in what can only be described as total and utter chaos. We brought home some more wedding stuff, so there were boxes everywhere, unpacked suitcases overflowing with dirty clothes blocking my side of the bed, dishes in the sink, and a week.5's worth of trash in the trash closet. Ick. Also, nothing but rotted casserole in the fridge. I've just about dealt with the mess, but it took me all. damn. day. It doesn't help that our trash deposit is in siberia (read: about 0.15 miles from our door, up a big hill).

While I was cleaning and organizing and discovering evidence of termites in our window seat I realized a few important things:

1. Keeping house by yourself is a lot of mother flipping work.

Honestly, I could stay unemployed and still be busy every second of my day making dinners, cleaning, buying groceries and doing laundry. I really could. And if we were to add kids to that equation some day? Holy Hell Raisers. I wouldn't even be able to break for lunch. I'm kind of missing our tiny apartment in new and different ways.

2. I like being busy.

There is a scene in Office Space where Lawrence asks Peter what he would do if he had a million dollars. Peter says he would do nothing. I didn't say it to my guidance counselor, but I always sort of felt like I was in the same boat. I like to read, I enjoy sporadically writing this blog, and I like to be outside, but I can't really tell how all of that fits into a career (hint: it doesn't). I can tell you this for sure: doing nothing is not equal to not being busy. I'm a very busy unemployed person. When work doesn't give me projects, I make them for myself. Sometimes that includes applying for jobs, and sometimes it doesn't. So I think I get the point now, and I wish I could apply for construction jobs.

3. Dear Mario Batali: Your recipes cannot be considered "simple" if half the ingredients are not available in a midwestern grocery store.

I had to look up pretty much everything for one recipe on the cook's thesaurus before I could complete my grocery list. I'm all for authenticity, but don't tell me it's "simple" when it's going to take me 2 hours to find acceptable ingredients.

I'll be back with more on last week once my black walnut induced concussion heals.

That's Not Very Zen...

We have a little bit of a spider problem in our new home. The Grige insists that it's not really a problem so much as a really aggressive "other bug" solution. So far, I've only seen one or two on the floor of our bedroom, which is okay, but the rest of the house is a freaking spider free-for-all. They're not too nasty - just mid-size, bug-eating, brown guys - and I'm learning to deal with them.

I do wish that Toby Maguire could come hang out with us instead.
Photo: http://www.meltingpotinternational.com/news6.html 

Earlier this week, I was in the bathroom doing my business (like you do) and one came flying out from under the tub like a bat out of hell and kept coming straight at me despite screeching, bath mat kicking, and what can only be described as "leg flailing". I ended up killing it with my bare foot, and thus began the "always wear shoes" rule. I hope you're laughing, because I'm banking on the comedic value of this story being greater than my humiliation at sharing it. The Grige thinks this was the funniest thing that has ever happened.

After that, I have been (understandably) a little bit jumpy. I was taking the trash out (filled with the dripping remains of soaked hops and wort - homebrewing is not really winning my heart this week), and a bottle cap rolled out from under it. I screamed bloody murder, jumped a mile and spilled a combination of coffee grounds, nectarine pits and beer soaked brewing remains all over the kitchen floor. So, you know, improvement! At least it wasn't bodily fluids this time, though I did still have to change my pants afterwards - there are few things more disgusting than running shorts drenched in sweat and beer. Luckily, I had just returned from a run and needed to shower anyway.

The front sun room, my yoga mats are in the corner, the Grige's crap is everywhere else

The worst infestation of spiders thus far has been in the front sun-room. This is mostly because it has been neglected, filled with boxes and random musical equipment since we moved in. We are planning to use it as a guest bedroom/reading room once our new couch arrives and we can move the evil futon of decoration death in there. However, that won't be until early November. Filled with the determination-that only unemployment and spending a year in a 500 square foot apartment- could inspire to use every square foot in our apartment, I decided to turn the front sun room into a yoga room.

One of the things the Grige and I agreed not to compromise on as we planned for our new, depleted financial condition was fitness expenses. We're both much happier people when we get our exercise, so a yoga membership for me and gym membership for him were non-negotiable. However, I've been reluctant to actually get started at a studio before I've figured out some income, so I've been writing my own practice in addition to running. Using a kitchen timer and a notebook, I have to say it's going pretty well.

Another sunroom shot, so you can understand the extent of spider dwelling area

So back to the spiders. It's not that it didn't occur to me that I was trying to set up a zen space in a place that was filled with spiders and messy things for them to hide behind. I brought a few pairs of shoes and a roll of paper towels in with me and hoped the scent of my incense would deter them. What I didn't expect is that one with a rotund body the size of my thumb nail would crawl torpidly, like Shelob out of her lair, across my mat while I was in headstand. No shoe or paper towel could save me, frankly, I think that even a sledgehammer would have been unequal to the task.

Luckily, the beast's worst was to stroll across my mat like she owned it while I lost my shit, grabbed a shoe and waited, heart pounding, for her to vacate my mat and meet her doom. Which she did, with much squelching on her part and screaming on mine. Not very zen.

So instead of Shavasana, I killed a box of wine and tried to recover for the rest of the evening. I don't yet know what the lesson here is, only that St. Louis is finding new ways to challenge my sanity every day, and I'm probably going to just go ahead and get that yoga studio membership. 

Update: A DC Cockamouse?

Breaking News!!

Or rather, breaking terrifying mental musings of someone who listened to her fiance beat up a giant bug this morning!!

I am thinking that we may have encountered (and killed) the elusive DC Cockamouse. Citizens, these are frightening times...

A Bug of Uncertain Size and Intentions

I hate moving. Everybody hates moving. One of the things I hate most about moving is the fact that all the stuff shuffling sometimes awakens creatures better left undisturbed, in places like "under the bed" and "behind the couch". This morning, about 5 minutes before my alarm went off,  I heard a bang and the Grige let out a barbaric yawp the like of which I have never heard from him. I assumed he was injured and immediately leaped up to rescue him!

"Stay over there!" He shouted. "Don't even look."

Filled with terror, I asked if he was bleeding that badly, wondering how this could have happened while simply getting dressed in the morning. "No, it's a huge bug. Just stay over there and don't look."

He tackles food like he tackles bugs.
Photo: Megan Shiley

He did not have to tell me twice! I stayed curled up in the far corner of the bed and watched him thump around on the floor looking around for this "giant bug" which he apparently didn't kill with his first strike. Not. Scary. At. All. He also kept making these alarmed and frightened noises that were even scarier. I've never seen the Grige loose his cool before. Bears in Yosemite? No problem. Snake in the Water? What are you worried about? Giant, man-eating cockroach in the kitchen? Quit your whining, you silly woman. But this bug, that he would not let me even look at, was reducing him to whimpers and yells while he whacked at it with his bare hands and feet. Serious man points were awarded.

I am Mighty Grige! I fear NOTHING! Except the bug under our bed!
Photo: Me

He finally must have killed it, because he looked up at me with mixed fear and disgust and said "I got it, just don't look yet." After cleaning it up with a massive handfull of papertowels and carrying it to the kitchen (apparently, it was a matter too great for the mere bedroom waste basket), he allowed me to get out of bed and said he needed a hug and a back scratch. I obliged, and asked him how big it was.

" You don't want to know. I'll tell you after we are all moved out. I can't wait to get out of here."

Whaaaaaa? He wouldn't even confirm if it was larger or smaller than a mouse. My imagination is running WILD. This creature has probably been living under our bed for 2 years, feeding on dust mites and wrapping paper, waiting for me to disturb it's hibernation by packing up the Grige's side of the bed last week. I wonder what other horrors await us under there?

I suppose there is always the option of getting my mean face on and dealing with it, but why?
Photo: EE's personal collection

Needless to say, the Grige is now officially in charge of all "under the bed" packing. I'm not even sure if I can sleep in there tonight. I'm also instituting a very strict "no bare feet in the bedroom" policy while we're packing up. I will be armed with closed toes shoes from the moment I cross the threshold moving forward. Flip-flops need not apply.

So, how was your Monday morning?