Therein lies the rub

October 23, 2009

January is traditionally a thinking month for me.  It’s cold and crappy outside so I hibernate in my house.  It’s also the start of the new year.  What do I do every new year?  Think about how to be a better me.  Or have a better life.  Or some combination of the two.

It’s probably not a big secret that I don’t find my job all that engaging.  It pays well, I like my coworkers and my boss.  Sometimes the work is interesting and it’s no more or less dysfunctional than any other place I’ve been.  My big problem is motivating myself to actually do work.  I started noticing this a few years back or two jobs or so ago.  It started to dawn on me that I just really don’t enjoy work and the problem has just gotten worse.  It also dawned on me that I have a really long time to go before I can retire with any sort of a pension.

Oh ha ha.  Who likes to work right?  Well, the DH does.  He willingly gets up at 6am to go to work, works hard and  limits his internet slackery to lunchtime only.  He’s a little weird I have to say.  Me on the other hand, I’d rather be elsewhere.

So, back to the topic at hand, how can I figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life based on what I like?  What doI like?  Well, I like books (ummm librarian….kind of an occupational hazzard) and reading.  I like to cook and bake and knit and craft.  I’m pretty creative and have a good eye for colour.  I can string together a sentence.   I like yoga and running…although not together and I don’t run much any more due wonky injury that won’t go away.  Mostly I stroll now which is also nice.  I also really enjoy laundry and ironing.  It’s sick but true.  I also like to clean the house…if I have the whole day to do it.  I like animals and going to unusual countries and having money.  I’m addicted to a few gossip blogs, I like to shop (I’m very good at spending money) and I’m a top notch complainer.  I am also a strong sleeper.

It’s kind of a weird list.  I could be a writer I suppose but I don’t have any writer-y credentials and I’m not going back to school for any more degrees.  And despite me always nattering on about being a hermit, I do need some human interaction throughout the day so working at home would not work for me.  I could be a housekeeper but I don’t like cleaning up other people’s messes.  I could be a dog walker or pet sitter too.  But that won’t pay the bills.  And due to the really liking to shop thing, I have a lot of bills.  Plus the Money Pit is eating up an inordinate amount of my take-home pay and I don’t see an end in sight this year.

I think I am eminently qualified to be a 50s wife.  Sadly it is 2009.  Also I’m not sure how easy it is to vaccuum in heels and fancy dress but I’d do it if it meant I could stay home all day.  God knows I have enough high heels.  And fancy dresses.

Eventually I hope to work a little less and craft a little more.  Maybe parlay some of that crafting into some custom work but not now.  Now the Money Pit demands, well, a lot of money.  And despite 2009 being the year of knitting down the stash I’ve already added significantly to it and now I see Knitpicks has a sale on books and new colourways of Felici that are very very pretty.  Evil evil Knitpicks.  And did I mention I might be in the States next weekend?  When is enough Peaches n Cream enough? 

So it’s back to the grind and only dreaming of being a SAHM (minus the M in my case) or June Cleaver.  Which might be pretty much the same thing really.  But I’m sure sleeping in and doing as I please all day isn’t nearly as much fun sitting in front of a computer, dealing with red tape and asshattery and generally being in hell with flourescent lighting.  Right?

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride

October 21, 2009

I have some unsolicited advice…Be careful what you wish for.  Two and a half years ago I wished for a bigger house….the 800 square feet shoebox was not enough for me, the DH and Baxter.  Besides, this was the house the DH bought for himself…and decorated for himself.  I felt a bit like I was living in a frat house, minus the ”liberated” road signs and mandatory Sports Illustrated Bathing Suit girls.

After many arguments, lots of whinging, even more pouting and what seemed like an endless stream of open houses that were too expensive, too ugly, too small, too big, too much work and all around not perfect for us, wonder of wonders, we found a house we both liked and so we bought it.  You have to strike while the iron is hot with the DH I’ve learned.  The new-to-us bootbox is 1700 square feet over 2.5 floors.  Which is a lot more stairs than I thought.

It’s also an old house, built in 1936.  Which means it’s charming.  But as I’m finding, charm doesn’t come cheap.  The 1936 windows need to be replaced…all 19 of them.  The 1936 floors need to be refinished….all of them.  And while the 1936 knob and tube wiring was replaced, the light switches weren’t, which means that you have to go OUTSIDE the room to turn on the ceiling lights INSIDE the room.  Not very intuitive.

And apparently in 1936 there were no such things as Queen size beds.  This is a bit of a problem for us as our  mattress is currently on the second floor but the box spring is languishing in the living room.  It has repeatedly refused to go past the landing.  Which means the DH gets to play with his power tools tomorrow.  And let’s not even discuss how said box spring is going to make it up to the master bedroom in the attic.  Can you say king size bed?  The Money Pit strikes again.

On the positive side though, there is so much more space now.  I know that 1700 square feet doesn’t sound like much, especially now that homes are three, four and five thousand square feet or more.  But coming from a cramped two bedroom bungalow to a house where I can actually get dressed in the room in which I sleep at night….oh it’s blissful!  My yarn, fabric and books all get a room and so does the DH’s 42 inch LCD.  Although the tv and the computer do have to share their room.  It’s a win-win situation all around.

I don’t miss the bungalow at all.