The Score So Far

The inconsiderate contractors have destroyed:

1. two ferns transplanted from my grandmother's house
2. one clump of variegated gout weed transplanted from my grandmother's house
3. one lily I bought at the farmer's market (maybe the bulb will survive?)

The inconsiderate contractors have trampled:

1. the coral bells transplanted from my grandmother's house
2. two small hostas
3. the foxglove from the farmer's market
4. the Solomon seal's

And they aren't done yet.

There also seems to be fewer of the prescription Ibuprofen 800s that I left on the counter (not knowing my home was to be invaded). Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Or perhaps not.

House-Related Bullets

• My fifth grade teacher walked by with his wife the other evening when I was outside doing yard work. It strikes me as sort of surreal that something like that can occur at all. It seems atypical of America today that I now own the home I lived in as a child.
• I have finished the majority of the poison ivy removal from the "garden" in the front yard. I also removed said garden and have sown grass seed throughout most of it. I will put down seed in the last section tonight after I attempt to do some leveling with the rake. Little bits of PI keep poking back up, but that's to be expected.
• My contractor has returned. In fact, apparently he was at the house twice last week and I just couldn't tell.
• He texturized the ceiling and primed the walls. Today he is starting to lay the tile floor.
• I felt bad because he picked up the wrong tile, and then had to return it. I had written Milano Walnut, and he picked up Milano Almond. Not the same thing.
• He also reframed my garage door, so that if H0me Dep0t ever gets their act together, everything will be all set for the installation of the new door and opener.
• FF just called and informed me that there are five guys at my house right now working both inside and out. And that one of them "blew the place up." Fantastic, it's not a frickin' port-a-potty, folks. Stay out of my bathroom!
• I can't wait until this is all finished and I can revert to my hermit style. I don't like people in my space.
• I don't even want to think about how my poor plants are faring. Hopefully, they can survive if they get trampled.
• I like and trust the contractor doing the inside work. The outside people, I know nothing about them. I can only hope he keeps an eye on them.
• Sigh.

Also

I didn't do any walking. So for the first time since I set my goal of two walks per weekend, I didn't meet that goal.

But I did just devour a huge piece of office cake. That makes it OK, right?

Well, my weekend sucked. How was yours?

Saturday was maddeningly hot. And the humidity was gross, just gross. I spent all day laying on the couch sweating and feeling sorry for myself.

Sunday dawned cooler and delightfully grey. But naturally, I had to work. All day.

By the time I left work, I was feeling irritable and all I wanted to do was relax with my family over dinner.

But that was not to be. They were feeling argumentative. And then as the evening drew to a close, I was forced to take another trunk load of my old crap. It is mine, and I understand it should be my responsibility to deal with it. But the timing frickin' sucks. I have no room for anything, what with the inactive construction project. Plus, it was going on 9:30 at night, I'd worked all day, and I had to work in the morning. I wasn't anxious to have to spend time unloading my car and finding space to stack more boxes.

And my parents wonder why we don't visit more often? Whatev.

Dancing

First of all, let me just say that music does not play as big a role in my life as it does in Beth's. That said, when offered free tickets to see a rock legend, I'm not about to turn them down.

I went with low expectations, but found that I had a much better time than I'd hoped. I knew more of the songs and enjoyed the crowd for the most part.

There was this charming young man at the end of our row that was positively ecstatic to be there. He was on his feet, dancing and jumping around. I found him charming and highly entertaining (in a friendly way, unlike the frat boys in front of me that were ridiculing him). After several songs, a STAFF member came along and told him if he didn't sit down, he'd have to leave.

WTF? When I used to go to shows back in the day, everyone stood and/or danced. And now, apparently it's not allowed? So Dancing Boy and his party of three climbed up to the top of the grandstand so they could dance without bothering anyone.

Later on in the concert, the band brought out several servicemen to pay tribute to our troops. Of course that prompted everyone in the whole place to their feet, cheering and clapping. Because everyone remained on their feet for the duration of that song, Dancing boy et al came back down to our row and were welcomed with back slaps and high fives. When the rows in front of us sat back down, I remained standing as did the guys near me. There was no way I was letting Dancing Boy be forced back into the nose bleeds or to be kicked out.

Towards the end of the show, the band played the song I was hoping to hear and I did a little dancing myself. I can't even recall the last time I danced.

I'm glad I went, and I'm glad I was lucky enough to have seats near Dancing Boy, whose enthusiasm was definitely contagious.

It's a coffee morning.

And I rarely have those, since I try to avoid coffee unless absolutely necessary. I'm a tea drinker, but even after my starter mug of English breakfast (with milk and sugar!) I'm still dragging.

Five and a half hours of sleep is not nearly enough to put me at a functioning level. Not that the coffee will make me function well; it will just make me jittery and nauseous while still being exhausted.

But at least my combination of coffee, creamer, and a packet of hot cocoa with marshmallows tastes pretty good.

Hopefully, there will be details to follow on why I didn't get enough sleep last night. Hint: Freebird!

Is it any wonder?

It's 71 degrees in my house. I'm wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. And I'm cuddled under a blanket to watch Law & Order.

No wonder I feel like dying when it's 56 degrees inside.

But the 90s shall return in another day or two.