Dream Story and the day.

Space was pitch black with pinpricks of stars sparkling far, far away. Silence hung heavily all around, creating a sense of doom that was slowly building up to a mighty climax.
A falling star shot passed, gliding a path against the intense blackness, leaving a burning flame in its wake. A gigantic projectile shot towards the surface, streaking through the air with a mighty roar.
It slammed into the earth full force, a huge shock wave making the tectonic plates shift and shiver. Earth, rock and dirt swept across the globe, sweeping through everything that lay in its path. Buildings shattered, trees were torn to shreds and life, as we knew it, crumbled in the years of bitter cold,–without sunlight ever penetrating the clouds–that followed.
Only few people survived, becoming little more than scavengers within the ruins that had once been a blooming civilization. Years went by, the past forgotten, as survival became a solitary goal, until at last the thick clouds hovering low in the earths atmosphere broke slowly apart.
This happened on a dark night, with only the stars shining brightly against the sheer black drop, leaving the occupants of a small colony on the fringes of the ruins awed by the sight of jewels shimmering overhead.
It was a flash of light up in the sky that made a couple of independent scavengers– roaming through the debris of a skyscraper ruin–stop their search for supplies in order to see what it was.
They stared openmouthed at the large formation of stars appearing to draw nearer, slowly beginning to take on shape. Angular structures became visible, blocky vessels of alien origin outlined by a pale blue light as they steadily descended through the earth’s atmosphere.
Frightened by the sight of what could only be ships, the couple fled into the ruins, digging deep into a basement of sorts, littered with debris that had long since been covered by thick layers of dust and sand.
A distant roar filled their ears, increasing their fear when suddenly, from the way they’d come, a pale yellow light appeared. Unable to flee, they stayed where they were, hoping against all odds that their hideout would be sufficient when a head-sized tentacle slowly winded its way into the basement.
It was almost transparent, a yellow glow pulsing through what looked like arteries as a hum echoed softly through the space. Steadily the tentacle moved further inside, slithering its way through the air like a snake, as the scavengers slowly moved from their corner and slid behind a large pile of debris, just when the tentacle’s attention focused on the spot they had just left.
Adapt at hiding, the two made their way stealthily around the room, heading toward the jagged stairs that were the only way in and out of the basement.
Hurrying towards freedom, one of the scavengers skidded on a wet patch on the floor, and turned the exact moment a hiss sounded from behind. He turned and…. I wake up.
A great dream, that will most definitely go into my files as a possible book story–though I would have liked to see what happened next. Ah well…maybe some other time. Let’s get to the day.


I didn’t get to sleep until at least seven thirty in the morning and the monster started fussing from the moment the hour of ten passed, interrupting my impressive dream brutally. She was worse then ever, actually, and I finally resorted to locking her in the back yard so I could at least sleep another hour, undisturbed, and hopefully capable of continuing where the dream has left off.

Of course, I’d forgotten to set the alarm, so I actually got half an hour extra–no dreams this time–when big brother phones to ask if something is wrong. Hah. Except for the fact that he’s phoned me awake, nothing is, of course. Considering I decided last night to take a rest day, exercise wise, it isn’t too much of a disaster so I get up and start the day.

I go to the house the way I always do. My foot feels slightly uncomfortable and I’m pretty happy about the fact that there is no laundry to hang today. I start up the computer immediately after breakfast and spent some time on the Net before starting on the book.

Still procrastinating a bit, but little more than a page from the ending, I manage to get a solid scene fitted. It’s definitely getting to be good, I’m thinking, actually looking forward to starting the editing session to see if the sense I get from it is remotely accurate.
This certainly is a first for me, the looking forward to editing part, that is. I never look forward to editing!

Managing two pages before the time, to get ready for grocery shopping and school, arrives, demanding that I shut down my computer and head on up to my cabin to get dressed. There is a chilly northwestern wind blowing in. Thick ominous clouds piling high and knocking against our mountain sluggishly change shape as thin tendrils draw nearer.
On the way down the mountain, rain comes down from the northwest angle and sunlight shines down from the southwest. It creates an impressive rainbow against the clear backdrop of the cloud-covered mountain. Quite extraordinary!

First things first, big brother and I are dropped off at the school for little over an hour behind the test computers. It goes well enough. I am able to focus since there are only two or so other students working with us in the small room, and I am pleased to see that I’ve done four of the six tests today without error.

After eighty minutes, chatting a bit with our instructor, we’re picked up by mom and grandpa again, and head for the home improvement store on the other side of town to get some more paint for the kitchen, along with clamps for when we’re going to attach the drawer covers with glue. I’m pretty pleased to find three nice sets of small clamps that look ancient and are really out of fashion what with the high-tech gadgets they sell these days. Three a pack, for only three bucks. Can’t beat a good deal like that.

That done, it’s time to go to the supermarket, and fill up the two carts with two weeks worth of supplies before we head back home.
Once there, I’m pleased to see that the sisters have already varnished the oak wood in the kitchen, and have cleaned everything so the groceries can be put away.

It takes us a good thirty minutes to get everything into place, and though little sister has made dinner, it isn’t enough to supply everyone with a full portion. Rather than dividing it all evenly, I opt to make myself roasted pita bread, stuffed with grilled cheese, peppers, onions, and fresh lettuce, and cherry tomatoes soaked in a tasty yogurt sauce. Excellent meal, that fills me up for the rest of the evening.

We watch TV for a bit, before little sister and I apply the last layer of paint on the drawer covers. Next we add sealant to the middle sink, chatting about today’s lessons and the sibs their exploits on the Net before the usual clean up needs to be done.

After wasting some time, just hanging about the evening has come to an end, and I’m heading on out with the crazy pack to start the evening rituals. Some personal messages get dealt with, along with this Blog naturally and at the end I’m once again running late.

No matter, though. At least today was not a sucky one, the way yesterday was.

Complaining, it's soothing.

Sucky days! Why are they always just lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce when you least expect it?…well, that isn’t entirely correct, I did suspect it somewhere deep down, I guess, but still, they suck. Today certainly qualifies.

I feel it the moment I wake up this morning, that gloomy mood that makes everything a genuine disaster, whether it is or not. Take my waking this morning, for instance. The monsters were making a racket, with Trin Trin feinting attacks at me until I grabbed hold of her collar and started to tug her towards the back door.

There was an interesting dream, something about a gigantic bookstore and having a pocket full of cash that allowed me to buy anything I wanted, but it faded too fast for me to make a proper memory of the images. I blame it on what happened next, however.

Knight was bouncing up and down, barking right into my face when I need to scoop down to take a good hold on the Boxer, forcing me to back up, lest he’ll slam right into me. So I do, my back to the foot-end of the bed and stepping right onto a long stretch of wood that came off the underside of my bed sometime during the night.
I set my bare feet…yes both of them…right on top of two protruding screws sticking out.
Gawd!
What are the chances of hitting them both at the same time? I know for sure that if I had meant to, I would have missed at least one, but there you have it: Perfect and involuntary good aim.

So, unable to do much of anything, what with holding Trin Trin the Monster in a viselike grip–she’s getting more enthusiastic every day, darn it–and Knight II prancing in front of me, I pretty much stand there clenching my teeth together as the sensation shoots up my legs.
I end up snarling at Knight II to “get the f**k away!”…I know, I’m not my most eloquent in the morning, but what was I to do, really? I was literally stuck in place.

At last the Great Dane backs up, allowing me to pry my feet off the wood and toss Trin Trin out the back door in a single motion–along with the darn piece of wood. It gets stuck in the fence, bouncing there for a bit making a racket.

Slamming the door shut, while Trin Trin is distracted, I suck in a deep fortifying breath before I hurry towards the front to let the other crazy pack members out.
My feet hurt like heck, as I stand there trying to decide whether or not I’m bleeding, without actually managing to gather the nerve to raise my feet to check.

I so cannot deal with this on an early morning…but I roll onto my heels and stagger back into the bedroom, knowing that I really should take stock of the damage. There are some words, unsuited for polite company that I mutter, when I feel a distinct wetness under my right foot and gather antiseptic and band aids before I drop down on the bed to chance a peek.

My left foot–I’m saving the moist feeling one for last–turns out to be intact, with only a deep indentation with some scratched skin right there on the round fleshy part under my big toe. Sighing, I finally lift up the right one and scowl at the small round hole, in the exact same spot as on the other foot, seeping blood onto my blanket. It’s not too deep, and though it burns some, the damage is minimal.

After watching the oxidized water sizzle on it for a minute. I mop up the spill and slap on a band-aid before I get dressed and head out of my cabin, berating the monsters constantly. They’re not impressed at all, of course, storming down the mountain at top speed and almost knocking me off my unsteady feet when I open the gate and jump aside in the nick of time.

I’m limping just a little, still sore from yesterday’s workout and more than just grumpy by the time I get to the house with my knickers in a serious twist about life in general. Odd how a bad day can make a life that seemed fine just 24 hours ago, seem like complete crap.

I’m not good company today, at least not at the start of the day, and I respond to big brother’s dialogue with grunts and monosyllables on the most part as I head for the laundry lines to hand up today’s batch.
Though not at all daunted by my mood, the dogs do give me the courtesy of a wide berth as I set about the morning chores, and then have a quick breakfast. After forty minutes I settle down with my computer and try to fight the mood by going past the messages, forums and everything else that can get my mind off…whatever depressing thought I’m thinking at that time.

It helps a little, I admit, especially since I find out that I can now order a proof copy of the cheaper W.I. version without needing to take out a mortgage on the house to pay for the shipping. Hah.
It’s a digest size, which will allow me to offer the W.I. Investigations stories for half the price. Good news there at least, and it cheers me considerably when I put in the order and switch over to the latest writing project.

I manage two to three pages, finding myself procrastinating for some reason now that the ending is just a few thousand words away, and by the time dusk settles, I give up the slow battle and turn off the computer to eat the dinner littler sister has prepared.
Spaghetti and fresh tomato sauce go down well, even though it makes me eat just a few grams too much. It is a definite side effect of tasty food. It spells disaster on the most part. I know right then and there that immobility is necessary for at least an hour, and flop down on an armchair before the meal can come up again.

I don’t make it through the hour, however. Though I always enjoy Grey’s Anatomy, I’m really not in the mood today, and head for the kitchen to see what I can do to keep my hands busy now that the meal has settled enough to risk activity.
Painting. It needs to get done for the big drawer covers, and some more spice drawers, if we want to continue with the kitchen project.

While I’m making room on the counter, and placing a large piece of cloth on top of the surface, little sister comes into the kitchen and decides to join me in the chore.
While I sand down the first layer, she starts rolling the paint on.

Working side by side, we chitchat some; smiling at little Djoti perched on one of the stair's steps, snoozing a little, while keeping his focus on little sister nonetheless. She says he's doing well, appearing to suffer from little discomfort due to the recent operation. I've no doubt that the medication he's getting helps a lot, but still, he doesn't need the full prescribed dose of painkillers to get through the day comfortably.

Actually managing to enjoy the little collaboration that takes a good hour and a half, I’m sorry that we’re finished. It allowed my to suppress any and all depressing thoughts that want to run through my mind, right until we finish, clean up and a rerun of “Bones” has passed.

The moody blues appear to be a bug going ‘round the house today, since big brother admits that he’s feeling it too, along with the other sibs. Must be the weather. It rained during the night, and though it cleared after sundown, the atmosphere feels heavy in more ways that one.

Luckily “Dexter” is on German TV tonight, and it manages to distract us well enough until it is time to leave for my cabin and get ready for the night.
I do try to console myself with the theory that you need to have some downers in order to fully appreciate the uppers, but they do totally suck!

I switch the music on full force the moment I get to my room–momentarily pleased with the fact that the floors are still beautifully clean–feed the dogs, and switch on the computer ASAP to distract myself on the Net. It does a well enough job, I guess, since the chats and the likes tend to consume me, winding me down for the night to come.

Well, that was the rant for the day. A good complaining session is definitely soothing to the soul. Hah.

Going on thirty...and feeling it. Hah!

I feel every single day of my thirty years on this “third rock from the sun” when I wake up this morning and try to get out of bed. It can’t be normal, I think, as literally every muscle in my body protests with a simple movement such as sliding off the bed.

A body isn’t supposed to feel worn-out before actually reaching thirty, is it? Of course not, they’re just years for crying out loud, and a wee bit of exercise for a four months, should make such things less painful, rather than the other way around. It’s downright weird that’s what it is. Whatever is causing this particular effect deserves a special kind of torture for sure. Hah.

If I didn’t know any better I’d think I’d just started my workouts yesterday. It’s just ridiculous, and I tell the body so while I shuffle through my cabin, going through the morning rituals at half the usual speed. Bulls**t! I say over and over again, unwilling to believe that these aches are warranted, and after a little while the whining joints finally start functioning enough for me to head on to the house at a moderate pace.

The workout is looming ahead while I make my way down, whistling for the dogs to get their butts into the courtyard and grabbing the Monster Boxer before she can dash into the house, ahead of me.
Grandpa is right behind me, and since Trin Trin’s crazy antics towards him are more than a little scary, I look for her leash the moment I step down into the seating area. It takes me a good five minutes to locate it, hidden underneath a folded blanket on a chair, and snap it on her collar the moment grandpa enters. Right on time!

Used to the procedure the Boxer climbs up onto the chair and sits there, looking bored the way she usually does. It’s amazing how she can have that silly impassionate expression on her flat face, but give her an inch (in this case no leash) and she’ll pounce on either grandpa or the first dog–if it isn’t a member of her own pack–that walks past. Her name isn’t monster for nothing, I tell you. She is exactly that on a multitude of occasions.

It’s not meanness that makes her jump on top of a dog, or a person, really. I know that full well whenever I watch her watch another living being with dangerous intent in her eyes. I also know that when she tries to bite me–or someone else–that it isn’t malice that makes her do it. She just doesn’t understand that what she does causes damage to man and animal alike. It’s all fun and games for her, and it doesn’t help at all that she doesn’t experience pain the way other dogs do.

Once Trin Trin gets riled, she’ll fight to the death if someone doesn’t jump in and literally yanks her out of a fray–in most cases bleeding all over since the other dogs do not accept her fighting antics at all. On the rare occasions that she manages to start a fight, she’ll be digging into some unsuspecting dog while two to four dogs are attacking her from behind. She’ll barely notice while she’s in the thick of things, which scares me at times. Normal sensibilities seem to fly right out of the window the moment she’s got her mind set on something.

In all honesty I should have put her down the moment these dangerous tendencies of hers started to show, but when she’s not fighting she is the sweetest dog imaginable. Affectionate, loving, gentle: all those things that make her an amazingly sweet dog. But her bad breeding is definitely showing in her aggression.

So, I made a deal with her several years ago. “One real bite towards humans and I’ll have you put to sleep permanently.” Strangely enough she seems to understand the deal fully, and though she still tries at times, my lower arms are no longer filled with big swollen bruise, the way they were before the deal.

There have been some close calls for sure in the past, but none that have broken the deal we made so far. She takes close supervision, lots of time latched to a leash in the hours that she needs to share the house with the rest of the pack, but on the overall her behavior is manageable. She doesn’t actually mind the leash, either. As a matter of fact being leashed appears to calm her somewhat, which is a lucky thing since it is a permanent precaution that she needs.
I do hope that she won’t break the deal, though, for I’d hate to have to carry out the particularly nasty thread.

But enough about things I cannot change, no matter how much I’d want to. Back to the day:

Rather than give myself time to talk myself out of today’s workout, I change into my exercise clothes immediately, starting with the warm-ups before the first thought actually manages to surface. The aches and pains jump to the fore immediately, and my face is a tight mask of frustration as I need to literally force my limbs to go through every motion. I actually get pretty angry about the twinges, since they aren’t supposed to be there now that I’ve fully adjusted to the routines, and apply more force than I usually do.

Using that frustration and grinding my teeth, I move over to the punching bag for the “fun” part of the session. The kicks are painful, as are the punches, but in the end I get through today’s workout and hurry towards the shower in hopes that the steaming hot water will ease some of the tension that makes moving practically impossible.

It does, much to my relief, feeling decidedly better–if overly tired–by the time I return to the living and find that there is no laundry to hang today. That improves my mood considerably, while I have a quick breakfast and then settle at my computer with heavy eyelids.

Since the messages will only distract me for at least a couple of hours, I decide to skip them entirely and get down to business with the Vampire story once more.
I add two more pages to last night foray, and then fit the loose scene into the story with another three until there are only four more pages to add before this story is done.

While working, big brother and I discuss an idea I had last night for a sequel–this time novel length–and agree that it’s a good basis for the next vampire story. It will add to the first, we’re sure, and writing it should be a genuine pleasure since it will be about the sister of the first character, and therefore allows for an expansion of the characters that drew us into this series in the first place.

Sundown has already occurred by the time I decide to call a halt to today’s writing session and warm up the last piece of pizza that’s left of yesterday’s dinner. What with the distraction of writing, I’ve failed to notice the others already eating their fair share, and am the last one to start with dinner. Apparently it was good, ‘cause I’d figured we could eat it for at least three days, only to find that with this last piece for me all is gone.

Unexpectedly, a panic attack hits then–for no good reason I can think of, really–making my stomach revolt, and allowing me to keep it in just barely as I quickly decide to distract myself by heading for the kitchen to see what I can do today.

With big brother gruffly telling me to breathe, I desperately look around for something to focus on, and, per his instructions, finally settle on measuring out the cover plates of the drawers that still need to be cut.

It’s an affliction I’ve been suffering from for three years now. Those panic attacks that’ll sneak up on me when I least expect it. Though I have tried herbal remedies and even Valium to curb the breathtaking episodes, the past year has taught me that getting down to all-consuming physical work really works best.

Within ten minutes the tight feeling in my chest subsides, allowing me to breathe calmly as I continue to cut out eight of nine drawer covers, until the wood supply runs out.

Something goes wrong halfway through the cutting, however. The circle saw shorts out the power for a moment, and though we try to figure out what is wrong, we can’t get the plugs in one section of the old kitchen to work again, casting half of the project into gloomy shadows.

Across from me, on the other side of the counter–now badly lit–the sisters are sanding and priming the covers, so that we can paint them with the first layer of red paint tomorrow. On the side big brother is working on a fold out waste-bin that we want to build into the counter, and is getting along well enough to suit us all.

It is not really satisfying work, if for no other reason than the fact that the end result won’t be visible until we actually start to attach the covers on the drawers in the next few days, but still, it needs to be done.

Little brother stays upstairs again today with the promise of a grand surprise in the near future, and since little Djoti needs to be kept under observation anyway it doesn’t matter. Besides, four pairs of hands are adequate numbers now that the heaviest work on the counters has been done, and it is all about finishing the cosmetics of the whole.

Nearing midnight we finish cleaning up, and after checking the counters for splatters we disperse to our chosen locations throughout the house.
While the sisters disappear to the second floor, big brother and I settle in front of the TV in order to watch some Law & Order reruns, until it’s time for me to go to my room.

Feeling considerably tired, now that today’s activities are over, I’m not at all pleased to come to my cabin to find that some pesky dog has managed to sneak inside again and spread out the remainder of cushion fillings all over the floors. It is everywhere, and I swear aplenty as I set myself to cleaning incredible the mess up.

Four garbage bags get filled in the end, and the cushions my dogs prefer to sleep on are unsalvageable. I don’t know which dog does this nasty business, but I’ll be sure to give him/her a piece of my mind when…if ever…I find out the identity. This is the third time now that this has happened, and though on any other day I might laugh at the ingeniousness of the pesky dog responsible, I fail to find it amusing when all I really want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep.

Since I have to throw the ruined cushions out, this particular problem shouldn’t be occurring again in the near future, though, so that’s one positive thing that came out of it, I guess.
My dogs don’t make sweeping the floors an easy task, however, and keep spreading the pile I’ve just swept together all through the cabin, because they are impatient for their meal to start.

At last, after forty minutes the floor is clean at last, allowing me to feed the dogs and head for bed and some relaxation on the Net until it’s time to turn in for the night.

I do wonder what tomorrow will bring…no workout, thankfully. Hah.

"There are no mistakes, only happy accidents".

Had a lot of dreams this night, but the main theme definitely was building the kitchen. I don’t like dreams about stuff that is already happening for real on a daily basis. It makes me think that I didn’t get any sleep at all, and confuses me when I see that all the hard work I did in the dream actually still has to be done.
This was certainly the case today…but I get ahead of myself, so I’d best start over by going back to the moment of my awakening.

The alarm goes off as usual, and I let the dogs out before they go completely bonkers. I linger a little during the morning routine, but get to the house on time, ready to start the day that lies ahead. I’m a little stiff and sore from yesterday’s workout, but while I was writing last night’s Blog, something in my back popped and removed the painful sciatica ache from my lower back and hip, allowing me to move relatively unhindered.

Outside temperatures have improved considerably, and for once I’m not huddling in my warm vest, or hiding my hands inside the sleeves of my sweater. As a matter of fact, for the first time in days my fingers actually feel normal and nimble, which is definitely a plus.

I find myself to be hungry this morning, and start off with a quick breakfast of bread and some orange juice when I arrive at the house. I work the meal down before I start on the day’s laundry. Not too much of that today, so I get through it fast enough to settle down behind my computer within an hour of arriving at the house.

No actual writing again today, what with the impending visit to the vet to see if Djoti can come home, but big brother and I do manage to get through a six page editing session before the time arrives to depart.

Little sister is looking a bit worried, but cheers up considerably when the young vet announces that the operation went well and allows little sister to head on to the back of the clinic while I listen to the basic instructions of medications and treatment when the little Cocker goes home with us.

Still a little dazed from morphine–and the night away–Djoti eagerly crawls into little sister’s arms, settling there as if he has no intention of leaving her embrace within the next week or so as we head back home and bring him inside.

It always saddens me to see how scared the dogs are even after just a few hours away from home. It makes me wonder if they think we’re going to leave them for good, since they’re unlikely to truly understand the reassurances we offer as we leave them. We never would, but still they seem to fear this the most.

With the jubilant welcome of the dogs, I head straight for the kitchen, deciding that I’m going to break in the new oven and make a large pizza for dinner, just to see how it goes. Younger sister joins me in the preparations, both of us standing at a comfortable distance from each other as we slice veggies, knead dough, grate cheese and place it all on the bar–even though it doesn’t have a top yet–well out of reach of the eager dogs.

They are sniffing at the scent of raw vegetables, cheese and even the dough, like they are starving…and that while little brother is dispersing food for them.
The majority actually ignores their portion in hopes of stealing a tomato, a pepper or even an onion when we least expect it.

The new arrangement is working great, I admit, actually smiling as we go through the process of baking the crust, add the tomato sauce and then the toppings before we slide the one by two foot tray in and out of the huge oven. The dogs are unable to reach the food without actually setting their paws on the counter, but frequent warnings and an occasional scowl keeps them from actually doing so.

It takes less than an hour to make the meal, and on the overall we’re all pretty pleased with the end result. Since I’m used to an electric oven, rather than one working on gas, (like the new one) there are some dark patches on the large pizza pie, but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the taste of the dish, which is rapidly devoured by all family members.

While little sister comes down to the kitchen to get her fair share, she informs us that Djoti is obviously thrilled with being home, literally rolling around on top of her bed upstairs before snuggling up against two of his pack members. Little sister is a mite saddened by the loss of Djoti’s eye, not liking the sight of the lid, which has been sewed shut, but other than that she too is happy with the end result. He’s still with her, and at least he’s without the discomfort the bad eye caused.

After dinner and its ensuing clean up, I vegetate in front of the TV for about forty minutes, watching a rerun of “the Closer”, and then while “Cold Case” comes on get up to call younger sister for help and resume the construction of the kitchen.

Having decided that the connection between the steel sink and fake wood counter isn’t going to hold against water spatters, we get the last piece of oak wood back inside and start to measure it.

We’re going to need a stretch of one meter and sixty centimeters for the center bar of the counter, but the rest is up for grabs. After cutting off the section reserved for the bar with the electric circle saw, I’m left with an oddly shaped puzzle piece out of which I have to get the required lengths for the frame around the sink.

In the end I manage to salvage two, one and a half inch wide, strips that’ll fit alongside the steel sink, allowing for a liberal path to fill with silicone, once we fit them around it, like a frame.

What with the wood being old, and used, it takes us some time to clean and sand it, but in the end we get it in place, using lots of glue and several bolts to attach them to the counter so no more water can seep between the seams.

It looks rather good, we find, examining the end result with some pleasure, especially when at that time big brother has shut down his computer and attaches the bar in the center. The design is really showing now, all straight angles, clean lines and easy to reach surfaces. Perfect.

It took some effort, of course, especially when I had to crawl underneath the counter in order to bolt the solid oak to the counter, but it looks good once I’m done and step back to admire the view. All angles and straight lines…a remarkable improvement to the old kitchen.

Next younger sister and I remove one of the covers I placed yesterday, putting some filling between it and the drawer casing to create some symmetry on the front. The strips that are attached behind the cover fit after just two cuts on four of them, and in the end both sides look exactly the same, as was the plan.

One of the big disadvantages of a self-build home is that there are always some inconsistencies in measurements. Walls are slightly uneven, as are the floors, thus making a project, such as building a square kitchen counter, a game of how-to-make-it-fit-properly. It certainly is harder than it would be if everything was perfectly straight, but it’s also more fun since one is required to think liquidly.

Nothing can be fully planned and there will always be unexpected hurdles to overcome, such as the floor making something waddle, or a wall not allowing for a perfect angle. But on the most part, while building, I’ve found that any mistakes made, are really just happy accidents. Something created for one place where it can’t go, fits perfectly somewhere else. It really makes it one big adventure of seeing where something will end up once all is said and done.

By the time we’ve cleaned everything up and put away the tools and such, I settle on top of the now clean counter and smoke a much-deserved cigarette. Around me the sibs are starting on their late night snack, and the hour of the departure for my cabin has arrived once more.

For some reason my dogs are restless tonight as I settle with the computer on my lap and decide to write a page or two for the Cajun vampire story.
I can hear Chaos and one of the labs bark and howl up the mountain, and Dax is impatiently moving in and out of the cabin as he exclaims an occasional screech.
The Pocket-Beagles do have the most annoying vocal cords, I’ll admit. They’re high and earsplitting once they get going, and unless I grab him Dax won’t stop until he feels like it.

I resort to tossing him on the bed after half an hour of this screeching, and hiss dire warnings at him to settle down, by the time Chaos finally deigns to come inside and demand I lift him onto the bed so he can get his beauty sleep.
The Basset will start walking along the length of my bed when he feels tired, looking at me haughtily, with his tail straight up into the air, until I cave and climb off the mattress in order to lever his hefty body up.

Finally I’m back to writing, and am pleased to see that the scene is developing nicely once I get into the flow.
I’ve not failed to perceive big brother’s frustration with the constant interruptions in our writing project. Unlike me, he’s not yet mastered the skill of patience when it involves part-time writing, and it shows every time we have to stop prematurely due to some activity that takes precedence over writing.

I am determined to appease his impatience by adding more to the story tonight, and actually manage the finish two pages before three AM right before I decide it’s time to start on my blog.

My evening has come to an end. I’m pleasantly tired tonight, and am eager to explore some more dreams and hope for one that’ll inspire me for a story in the near future.