No particular dream to report colorfully today, much to my regret.
I wake to the alarm, wanting nothing more than to roll back under my blankets, where it’s warm at least, when I know I can’t since I promised big brother to come to the house early so we can get all the plans for today done.
Mumbling my displeasure, and after the alarm has screeched for a god-awful five minutes, I get up to let the rambunctious dogs out and about.
Yes, the sun shining the way it’s supposed to, but the temperature feels close to freezing even though I know it isn’t. Quickly I get the morning rituals over and done with, heading down to the house for my workout with the poor boxing bag.
It goes well enough, nothing of the bumbling stiffness I experienced last week, and all the motions going fluently and fast as I go through the routine top speed so I can get on with the day. I warm up fast, finding myself chilling rapidly again by the time today’s session comes to an end. Somehow today’s hour just flew past, and I hurry on towards the shower to let scalding hot water pour over abused muscles until I’m pretty sure that I won’t be sore for the rest of the day.
That done, and once again dressed in today’s layers consistent of Jeans, long sleeved T, turtleneck woolen sweater and a calf-length vest–that is simply the best buy I’ve made in years–I head on out into the courtyard to get yesterday’s laundry down.
Well, technically only half of it, what with the temperatures not allowing for quick drying, but still. By the time I get the wet laundry out and hung, with only one item of clothing needing to be washed again due to Knight II’s exuberance, my hands are freezing and I wrap them around a hot mug of coffee as I settle behind the computer for a quick check of today’s messages.
Luckily weekends are always slow, so soon I’m once again ensconced into the world of vampires and such, writing down a page, while big brother is doing the same across from me.
At last he actually wants to attempt some real writing, rather than just be inspirational and edit for me. I’m pretty thrilled by the prospect of him writing, too, especially once he gets a hang of it. It’ll double our productivity at the very least, and maybe even allow him to someday write a book all on his own…as he’s been planning to for years.
It is a pleasure to watch his enthusiasm. Over the years I’ve noticed that even though I love writing, it has become a job rather than just pleasure the way he now views it. We get to talking about it, actually, pondering when that change occurred, but in all honesty I couldn’t–and still can’t–pinpoint the exact time when writing changed from a hobby into work.
It’s a pity, really, especially when observing big brother’s pleasure at forming a good paragraph for the first time. I was like that at one time, bouncing around in my chair as I saw a story form on the screen in front of me. Now, one page just flows into the next giving pleasure for sure, but not like that. Not the sitting on the edge of my seat just by describing simple day-to-day actions.
He’s lucky in this regard, learning to write a story at this point in his life.
Where I had to learn everything on my own from the ground up, he can ask me for input and improvements whenever he feels the need for it. After a fashion I’m now a teacher, hah. It’s fun, however, and it inspires me to write too, so we both get something out of it.
I only do one page at this time, adding to last night’s scene and making it just so that it’ll flow right into the scene big brother’s creating for this particular story.
Compared to the first story, which was dark, intensely deep and sweet, this one’s grittier, laid-back and most certainly more sexually oriented.
With the first story, the “getting together” part was making love, while now it is definitely having sex. Diversity, it makes for a fun write…and read.
It is our plan to start on taking down the old kitchen today, or at least strip the part where the new one will be build up from the ground, and so we put our computers away and get to it.
With the two sisters cleaning out cupboards and such, big brother starts taking out shelves, doors and walls. At the same time, in the other part of the kitchen, little brother makes a quick dinner of spaghetti and fresh tomato vegetable sauce for when we’re done, filling the house with delightful scents of Italian cooking.
The radio is playing pop-music as I hang up the boards that still need to be primed and painted, creating a maze of wires that will allow me to paint all sided of the boards that will in the end form the foundation of the kitchen isle. The house looks like a construction site at the moment. Boards hanging from the ceiling for drying, tools piled together on the kitchen table, and supplies scattered on once empty surfaces. It almost feels like camping.
High on paint fumes, and singing and bouncing along with any familiar song that is played, I split my attention between painting and keeping track of what is happening in the kitchen, watching with horrified fascination as slowly the counters that we built ten years ago get torn down and set away for disposal at a later time.
Though it is high time for a new kitchen, it saddens me to see the old one go. It had taken so much work to build in the first place, and for years it was a wonderful kitchen to cook in. But the new kitchen is going to be great as well, so my spirits are high enough as I climb on and off a kitchen chair time and again to roll paint onto the MDF boards until the silvery primer covers all the wood.
What with the primer drying fast, I know that tonight another painting session will follow, making me decide against cleaning paint off my hands and arms as we finish the preparations in the kitchen we can for today, and start on our dinner.
It is good, and as Italian tends to do, it settles well on an empty stomach while we watch tonight’s rerun episode of “The Closer”. Fun, as always: Kyra Sedgewick certainly hits the right note with her role as Chief Brenda Johnson. I do believe that it is her best character ever.
But anyways, by the time “Cold Case” starts, my eyes begin to droop, and rather than drifting of to dreamland once more, I get up to get the blue paint and start rolling it on top of the now dry primer.
With grandpa sanding the first of tiny spice drawers that will go from the old kitchen into the new, and big brother sawing wooden 1 by 2s for the kitchen foundation, we debate the wisdom of which construction will hold best for long-term use by a large family of six and a pack of ninety dogs trying to steal treats by jumping up against it.
Overkill will definitely be applied aplenty, rather than risk a breakdown.
Eleven O’clock is nearing by the time we decide to call it a night–building wise–and clean up the mess we make before I head for the sink and wash off the paint splatters with turpentine and soap. Pretty much drained, physically, I get myself a glass of water and settle behind the computer for some more writing on the latest project.
With big brother sitting opposite of me, I manage two more pages for today, so with his work added to the total, the second vampire flick is up to a wonderful ten pages. We’ll get there.
By the time I head on up to my room it is raining again, and the temperature is low enough to make me hurry into my bedroom, switch on the heater and stand groaning in front of it for several minutes as I try to get some warmth back into my cold fingers.
It’s only nine degrees Celsius, and neither I, nor the dogs like it at all. I can’t wait to turn in for the night and let the heat of dog bodies and blankets warm me up.
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