It's All Relative

So I've been away for quite some time; it's been a hell of a time since my last post. Obviously we got past the renovations relatively unscathed and now we have a lovely new bathroom that's temporarily clean and neat! I say temporarily because it's currently under the ownership of a 17-year-old boy. How long can it last?

We have a cleaning lady who comes in once every two weeks; Broomhilda is a private cleaner and charges me $80 to clean. The first time she came in, we went through the house and discussed what she would do, and how long it would take. I, being the silly dumb fuck I am, imagined it would remain that way! As weeks went on, I noticed things were being left out here and there, but even though I can rage out of control at the slightest provocation from within, when it comes to confrontation, I back down. So I said nothing. And it got worse. So here I am with a woman I'm paying $80 to, every other week, and she's ......

--not sweeping under tables
--not vacuuming under furniture
--not dusting the fireplace mantle
--not using any wood cleaning product on the fine wood furniture
--not MOVING ANYTHING on any surface to dust
--not rinsing her mop when she damp mops the entire main floor, which is stone tile
--not wiping ANY doors or cupboards, under any circumstances

We'd notice that if there was something on the floor that needed wiping up, even if it was right after she'd been there, the rag we'd used would come up filthy. Uh....Broomhilda, darling, just what are you doing?

Thing is, I was never here when she was cleaning; her days always coincided with appointments I had. Finally, I left one Tuesday morning at 10 am, knowing she was coming to clean. I arrived back at 11:15. She had been and gone, with the house apparently "clean". Now it's important to realize that the house is 2000 sq feet, with three bathrooms, four bedrooms, with the main floor entirely stone tile, and the upper floor entirely carpeted. It's impossible for one person to clean this house in an hour, and yet....she apparently did it! I was pissed beyond belief. But I guess I only have myself to blame, as I knew that things like this were going on for quite some time.

When my husband and I started renovating the bathroom, I used TSP to clean the walls and cabinets before painting. It was pretty disgusting, considering it was the DAY AFTER she had been there to clean.

Broomhilda, FIND YOURSELF ANOTHER SUCKER, YOU WRETCHED WENCH! YER FIRED! I'm now using a professional service and I'm already happier! :D

Immediately after we finished the bathroom, company arrived! My niece was here for an eight-day visit and we were busy doing the "California thang", showing her all the touristy stuff like beaches and trendy shops and bakeries and missions, etc. Eating ranked up at the top of our favourite things to do. Ugh. We shopped at the beginning of the following week and I was pleased to see that things were still fitting at the same size. I was seriously worried for a minute-anyone who's familiar with the Inland Empire will be familiar with the Mission Inn Brunch and all it has to offer. One needs to train for days in order to do it justice......a gentle stretching of the stomach, if you will....

Anyway, it was lovely to have family here but what I've discovered as I've gotten "old" is that I like having my house to myself after a certain point. You know how you stumble downstairs in the morning and you haven't combed your teeth or brushed your hair--you don't want to speak because you haven't put in the IV line of coffee yet and there's someone all perky and happy wanting to visit, busy being a MORNING PERSON. Morning people should be shot on sight, no offense, anyone.

So we went to Santa Barbara for a couple days which is my favourite place in the whole world; if we could retire today and move, that's where we'd go. Peaceful and lovely. We'll need about $20 million to buy the house we want in the location we want. Anyone willing to seed the pot a bit? I'll set up a paypal account. So we went up and down the coastline, and wandered the beach and had breakfast in a little restaurant right on the waterfront, and lunch and dinner overlooking the harbour; we took tours through Hope Ranch and the Santa Barbara Mission, and walked up and down State Street buying chachkies and keeping the shops in business. The pastries from the bakeries were to DIE for. But as we left the city, I got the distinct feeling that she was somewhat ... unimpressed... but we spent four hours in Laguna, and she LOVED that; her mother has been there, and my mother used to spend time there when she was alive, so it holds a special place for all of us, but I still felt as if we'd somehow let her down by trying to show something different.

Sadly, when we arrived home from SB, we discovered one of my doggies is sick; we took him in immediately, as each time he moves or tries to lay down or stand up, he screams in pain. After an X-ray, it was revealed that the little beggar was constipated from his rectum all the way to his pyloric valve with hard-packed stool. Thing is, this is NOT normal for a dog. He was kept in and it took not one, not two, but THREE enemas to flush him out. Unfortunately for us, there appears to be an underlying cause because even though he's cleaned out, and softeners are keeping him moving a little bit, he's in obvious pain and distress and stands for hours just staring, not moving...and then screams in agony if he tries to lay down, or if he's bumped. Mostly, he and I cry together. Don't know what to do besides make him as comfortable as possible, and keep taking him for walks to keep him moving. I'll wait one more day then take him back to the vet, and make a decision on whether or not to let them keep trying to find out what's going on. I can't bear to see him suffer. Our days are filled with walking behind him and watching to see what, if anything comes out...poop watch.

All of these things combined have left me wound up tighter than a drum. Mostly, I need a break from my mind, but that's sorta hard to get, ya know? I'm tired and my head is spinning and I feel like I'm going to skyrocket into space. Yesterday, I tried to explain it to my husband: I said I felt the need to be strapped down--or tied up; I mean like head to toe. Not in a fetish way, but in a safety way, because it seemed as if I was in danger of just jetting off like a balloon filled with helium; weird, huh? So I went to a website I use for emotional support...and had my ass ripped off instead. Oops. Guess I caught someone on a bad day. If it seems like I'm rambling, it's cuz I am! You see...I am working on skills to get me through the rough times of life, and today, I just don't have any.

I'm in my bedroom, which I love. I've left the dog downstairs for now because I need a break from looking at him. I sort of miss my family, but they don't know I'm sick and they'd never understand. It would take years to try to explain it and I haven't got the strength to do it. I'm just tired. If I could just get my head to go someplace else...somewhere peaceful and happy for a little while, maybe it would get better, or at least I'd get some rest.

It's been a LONNNNNGGG ten days.