Two weeks left to go. Tough tough tough. We've been sick, grumpy, I've been having way nasty nightmares. The washer up here in the rental stopped working. The dish washer stopped. I'm farming out my laundry to friends in trade for wine and detergent. Buying flowers and plants for the garden, but can't put them in yet, test driving their "anti-deer" personalities in my driveway. Bob's breaking his back removing trash, bamboo. We just learned yesterday that the type of bathtub we bought for Stella's bathroom, doesn't match the way that space is framed, nor the way the tile platform is made. We may have to start all over in there. Ick. Some things are beautiful and make me very happy, other things make me cringe. I'm reeling from more medication than I can normally manage, but without it I might stumble into paralysis. Only two more weeks. The POD comes Tuesday. The hardwood guy starts Wednesday. I get my laundry counter Tues or Wed, and then the plumber can hook up my new washer on Monterey. There is much to do, and I want to write poems, keep my diary (I'm 49 now!) and research my thesis. But not until the knob debacle is done. http://www.myknobs.com/ is a place to go only at your own risk -- permanent brain damage is possible.
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