Is the day over yet?

Strange dreams this night. First there was a confusing mixture of the last episode from “Dexter” and “CSI” which confused me to some extent. And then, after the monster Boxer woke me up for the second time this morning, I think I had a dream about Posh and Becks, and them needing a nanny for their kid. They have several I believe, but in the dream there was one. Weird.

Don’t know where the heck the dream came from, considering I haven’t been a nanny in…gawd, ten years, and of course the fact that I never met, and rarely even hear about the Beckhams these days.
In the dream they did have a wonderful house, however. It was huge, halfway underground, I believe, filled with plants, large windows, wonderfully eclectic furniture, and a toddler that was really sweet.

Dreams. They’re odd things, when all’s said and done. Take this one for example. What is the use of it? I can understand interesting and adventurous dreams, I even get the scary ones, but these are about as comprehensible as daytime television.

I’m feeling pretty miserable when I wake at my usual time and shove the monster Boxer in the back and let the rest of the dogs out into the yard.
The feeling’s both physical and mental, with no way to explain it or make it go away. I’m actually close to tears, which makes no sense at all as I procrastinate through the morning rituals and then head down to the house.

What with the recent escapes of several pack-members, we planned to do some fence fixing today. Seeing my mood, grandpa and big brother don’t push for me to join them, and leave me in peace while I give Yadzia his extra meal. The poor lab has been loosing weight this past week, and starting to get concerned I use the leftover soup to poor over dog food, bread and whatever else I can find to make a big portion so I can fatten him up a little.

It takes a bit of effort to be able to separate the blond Lab from the rest of my pack, eagerly trying to sneak their way between my legs as I open the pantry door and call for Yadzia to come and eat.
I actually need to wedge Knight II against the wall with my knee, in order to get the Labrador inside without company, and stand there at the door, occasionally chancing a peek inside, for ten minutes while he devours the meal with obvious enthusiasm.

At long last he’s done, wagging his tail like mad and bouncing around me when I take the advantage of Knight II wanting to check out the empty dish by locking him up so he won’t try to bowl me over when I head out into the yard to join big brother and grandpa near the section of the fence where the holes have been made.

They’re pretty much done by the time I arrive, but I do manage to make myself useful by braiding wires through the last hole. Next grandpa and I spend several minutes on the ground, sorting out a pile of bolts and screws that have somehow ended up in the middle of our rocky dirt road, digging it all out and placing it in a plastic bag when the small box that had contained them has obviously been crushed by the truck.

I’m thinking that when we repaired the gate the other day we forgot the box and left it on the middle of the road where it stayed until we left for town on Thursday. I do faintly remember hearing a thud, without being able to identify the cause on that day.

But anyways, once we’ve saved what we can from the supply, I head back down to the house to start on today’s laundry. There’s a nice dry batch, and a wet one to hang, and I do it by rote rather than thinking about it. Routines are marvelous on days such as these, I’ll admit. They allow me not to think about anything and still do my chores.

Since I’m feeling nauseous I don’t have breakfast, and start the day on a glass of orange juice rather than anything more substantial.
The few Sunday messages get worked through after I turn on my computer, and afterwards, big brother and I go over the last few pages we changed yesterday. At long last we declare the vampire story done and I’m more than a little relieved.

Its not like the story is bad or anything. Not at all. The story’s great, but my present mood just doesn’t allow me to enjoy it.

What follows is writing a query letter and a short synopsis. It takes a solid hour, but in the end we both agree that it’s good and transfer everything to big brother’s computer so he can send the entire package out, while I half-heartedly start searching through my files to see if any of the stories draw my attention.

In the end I narrow “my next project” down to two stories. One is a paranormal, drama/thriller, about a psychic who’s reluctant to help the authorities due to some events in the past.
The second one’s a comedy romance, about a writer with disastrous luck, which has made her a famous reporter.
Tough choice, I’ll admit. I would put the question in a survey, to see which would get the most votes, so to speak, but…well, not right now. Maybe later.

Dusk has settled by that time, and I decide to do something, anything, lest I start screaming, or worse. I would call it the screamy/headbangy feeling, but that would be overstating it, I think.
Dinner. It has to be made, and since all the ingredients are available I start preparing a solid chili-sin-carne for this evening’s meal.

The power goes off halfway through the preparation and lasts for fifteen minutes before suddenly turning back on. Looks like it’s going to be another one of “those” nights, I muse while blowing out the oil lamp I lit just minutes earlier and scowl.

It takes little time, and once the meal’s done, I actually manage to choke down a small portion. I’m far too stressed out to calmly digest the food, though, and soon I head on out to the courtyard to get a bucket of soft-yellow paint, so I can start on the wall that we displayed with last night’s demolition.

The paint in the bucket is a bit thick from a full year without use, but after adding some water to make it useable, I start slapping it on the wall. I usually am rather quick at painting, but not today. Since I’m doing this particular chore with the intension of keeping myself busy, I go through the motions slowly and steadily, actually grabbing a chair for the ground level sections and just slapping the paint on.

The electricity goes off again, but I pay it little heat after I light the oil lamp again and continue to paint that way for the next ten minutes of darkness before it switches back on.

By the time I finish with the wall, both sisters have come down and we decide to start tiling the section of the floor that’s bare now that the old counter’s gone.

Back, when it was built the house was barely done with only concrete floors. Since we needed the kitchen sooner than the actual floors, we’d put it in before the tiles, leaving middle sister and me with the not-so-wonderful chore of fitting and matching new tiles into the missing sections.

While middle sister is mixing the glue I get down on the floor to clean it properly before use. There are layers of grime to scrape off, and an actual chisel is needed when I find big lumps of the old glue sticking out from the edges of the tiles already there.

It takes some time to get it all ready but in the end, middle sister takes over the actual laying while I start cutting the tiles we need to fit in. The new ones are not an exact match, but they’re close enough as slowly the biggest part of the concrete is covered.

While we’re in the midst of laying the tiles, the dogs decide to come check out why we’re working on the floor, thus making it necessary for little sister and brother to get a large board to block the part of the kitchen we’re working on. This, of course, is not something the dogs appreciate, and the majority of middle sister’s and my pack are gathered behind the board, occasionally hopping up to peer at us with miserable expressions on their faces.

Finished with the section of the floor that was planned for today’s laying, we move to the counter, and use the remainder of the glue on the cooking side of the kitchen, where small blue and white tiles will cover the wall.

It is close to midnight when we’re finally done, and the other sibs join us in the cleanup. There’s a small disaster while we’re shifting the protective board to lay it over the newly laid tiles, however. My pack is eager to join me in the large niche that was closed off for a full two hours, and while they’re crowding close, little Dax’s paw somehow ends up under the board big brother and I are putting over the tiles.

Now this wouldn’t have been a big deal if Yadzia, Chaos and Amri–all big and heavy dogs–hadn’t decided to bounce right on top of the board big brother and I just barely manage to keep from smashing right down to the floor…and therefore sparing poor Dax some serious damage.

There is a lot of noise when the Pocket Beagle (Dax) squeals, and the rest of my pack thinks that there’s some excitement going on, but in the end the paw gets freed and calm returns.

Once cleanup is done, I eat a few crackers with apricot jelly before big brother and I spend about an hour at the kitchen table discussing the possibilities for the next book project.

With the arrival of one in the morning I call it a day and head to my quarters.
Sleep. It is all I really want at this time.

Escaped dogs and...Demolition. Yay!

Not a good night. I lie awake, my mind running a mile a minute well into the early hours of morning, not finding myself drifting off until past 7 AM and am more than a little annoyed with my inability to shut my brain off.

I’m definitely punchy when the alarm screeches in my ear–easily piercing through the ear plugs–and it makes the dogs go insane, the way it usually does.
The monster boxer has woken me up four times already, my blankets are halfway down the bed, and I’m seriously aggravated when I shove her in the back yard and then make my way through the rest of the pack, making even more of a racket than they usually do.

The weather’s pleasant enough, but since the lack of sleep is having it’s effects I can’t really appreciate it as I start the morning rituals and get ready to head on down and to the house.
Laundry, the steady routine of it calms me a little, and after I’ve taken off the dry, hung the wet and shove breakfast down while standing at the counter, I feel remotely human again.

Before I start on my morning coffee and much needed cigarette, I fold the large pile of laundry I’ve deposited on the kitchen table, heave my computer bag in place, hook everything up and give my system the final boost that should get me through the first part of the day.

Messages aplenty today, but in due time, just about when the sibs come downstairs, big brother and I resume our editing session. Two more chapters to go and then we should have the latest project over and done with. Should, being the operative word here.

It goes well enough, right up until grandpa calls from his place, announcing that Prama (pointer mix) has managed to dig her way through the fence again, loosing the majority of the pack in the upper garden, while she has somehow squeezed her way through the recently fixed gate.

A disaster waiting to happen! Can you imagine what would happen if some unsuspecting person is around while the pack breaks free? Oh. My. God! Just thinking about that makes me break out in hives. Until we’ve managed to fix the fences properly–they have been up for a good ten years, and they’re showing some serious wear–the dogs are confined to the courtyard as due punishment.

Right now they are definitely too eager to roam to be trusted, especially Prama and Tadaika–the eager little bastards–who seem to be the cause every time.

The barely contained disaster-in-the-making puts a serious damper on our editing; thoughts whirling with all the trouble this event could cause, making it hard to concentrate. Still, with a lot of effort we manage to hack our way through it, finally reaching the last page…when big brother suddenly claims that one particular scene still isn’t “sitting well”.
The rest he feels confident about now, but that scene, the dialogue–he waves his hand vaguely–it is “off”…whatever that means?

Since he is unable to come up with the “right” way it is supposed to go, I get rather frustrated by the entire thing. At this point I just want to tell him to shut up, or offer something I can work with, until I finally just delete the “offensive” scene and do a complete rewrite that appears to satisfy him at last.

I still don’t know what was “off” about the first one, but don’t care at this time and try to make myself take a step back in order to look at it objectively. In the end, I decide that it doesn’t really matter in the bigger scheme of things. This scene goes as well as the first in my opinion, so if this one meets big brother’s high standards, so be it.

The new scene will need another edit, of course, but with a little luck we’ll be sending the story to a publisher tomorrow or Monday morning at the latest. What with the Holidays coming up there really isn’t a time limit, but we figure we might as well get it over with and move on to something new.

Seriously relieved with the semi-done status of the story, I shut everything down at last. Next I wrestle my way through the dogs, and head to the kitchen to recycle last night’s soup. Would be a waste to throw it out, so we might as well finish it.

I let the meal digest for a bit before heading back to the kitchen for cleanup and resuming “the project”.
The small spice drawers certainly make the whole look good, creating a rather robust image for the top cabinets as I clean up the counters and then suck in a deep breath before turning towards where the last section of the old kitchen is waiting.

It looks like a disaster area, really. Covered with tools, cases, wood and debris that have been tossed there during last night’s cleanup. It is taunting me, and–sucking up the distinct feeling of not-wanting-to-tackle the mess–I dig in.

First thing’s first: Removing everything and anything, and putting it somewhere out of the way, without putting it out of reach.
I’m most pleased when both sisters come down and join in, moving back and forth to get the tools out of the way, while I remove old cabinet doors and crawl into the open spaces revealed to see how everything is fastened. Screws, thank God!

With the rapid removal of the stuff piled on the counter, and little sister moving back to the new counter to slap on the third layer of paint on the underside of the spice drawer casings, little brother comes down too and gets to work on the oak wood frames for their second treatment with varnish.

At long last I have room to start disassembling and twist into a variety of uncomfortable positions until it’s just age keeping the old counter together.

Middle sister is just finishing up removing the last few screws around the corner, when big brother joins in too, and decide to just jerk the counter off with one mighty heave. It sends both middle sister and me scrambling back just in time before the oak wood sections of the counter come off. Age has made the glue brittle and we are able to save most of the oak for later use, should we wish to do so.

The carcasses of the cabinets are now revealed, and since they refuse to come loose, I call out a warning to the sibs–they’re removing the old shelves I’ve put aside–and bring my foot up for a solid kick against one of the old walls.
Did a slight miscalculation on the strength part, I’ll admit. Almost gave two dogs a heart attack when the section takes flight and lands a solid yard away. Hah.

Much to my surprise, the rest remains standing and it takes three more kicks before the entire structure finally crumbles. With the way the old kitchen looked there at the end, I’d figured a strong breeze would have knocked it over, but it actually took some effort. Go figure!

Bit by bit the frame is removed, at long last the high, storage cabinet in the corner is free enough for me to start removing screws and hooks. It comes down without mishap, and is removed until at long last we’ve reached the foundation/bottom.

At this point we’re all joking about the possibility about what we could find underneath the section that remains. Phrases such as; “It’s alive” and “I definitely see something moving down there,” are tossed back and forth, becoming more outlandish with every minute that passes.

There is the remote possibility of snakes, of course, which little brother gleefully points out, actually freaking me out for a bit when I see something move through a crack. It’s an old electrical wire that big brother’s yanking out on the other side, and I profusely “thank” little brother for putting the idea in my head.

There also is the rat infestation we had a few years back, and there is a distinct smell coming up from what used to be closed off completely, bearing testament of it. Rather than getting any closer than is absolutely necessary, I once again use my foot for the removal, holding my breath, just in case something jumps out.

Now, I don’t have any problems with rats. I do however have serious problems with things jumping at me when I least expect it.

Nothing does, much to all our relief when just a soft kick breaks through the eleven-year-old pressed-wood without trouble, showing only one old rat nest which is spreading a rather nasty musky smell by then. The remainder of debris and the likes are removed posthaste–a can of odor remover soon half empty, since the smell is bad and nauseates me–by the time we’re done and decide that it is a job well done.

For the first time since we build the house, we are able to see a section of unpainted wall, and it announces that the old kitchen is now truly gone. Yay!

The sibs stay for the duration of cleanup and then disappear to their own quarters to resume their most recent discovery of being able to follow piano lessons on youtube. For the past two days I’ve been listening to slow, offbeat, but rapidly improving reps of familiar pop tunes. Once my schedule clears a little, I’ll be sure to give it a try, too. I’ve wanted to play the piano since I was a toddler.

It is around eleven in the evening by then, and with the often repeated reps sounding in my ear, big brother and I apply wide strips of aluminum to the open areas between the ceiling and top cupboards, allowing us to use to tops as storage too, once we get them attached.

At long last today’s work is done, and big brother and I settle in front of the TV to watch the recorded last episode of season one of “Dexter”. It’s such a shame that this will be the last one for a while. It’s a wonderfully twisted show, but since the channel that broadcasted it terms it as “not successful” due to too few ratings, it is unlikely that the next season will come on any time soon.

I’m feeling a bit edgy by then, and though Dexter is always fascinating to watch, I’m kind of relieved when it is time for me to head on up to my cabin for the night. I don’t know where this edgy feeling comes from but it’s frustrating as heck.

Just need to feed the dogs, go through my messages and write the Blog, and then I can call it a day.

In short: The day!

I wake comfortably toasty today. The sun’s shining and the temperature in my cabin has risen to a whopping 18 degrees (C) when I lunge out of bed. I immediately grab the Monster Boxer and throw her outside into the backyard, before she causes any serious damage. That little problem out of the way, I head to the front and let the rest of the dogs out as I suck in a wonderfully warm breath of fresh air.

It almost feels too good to be true as I go through the morning rituals, shedding layers as I go, and doing some stretches to get the sleep-kinks out of my back.
Marvelous! The temperatures are actually so nice that I forget to take my vest with me down to the main house, and get to the business of hanging a big load of laundry, waiting for me.

We’re running a little behind, by the time I finish but it doesn’t bother me, when there are no pressing matters pushing for haste, for a change.
Though yesterday’s new knee-ups didn’t appear to have any effect, my abdominal muscles have a nice used feel to them today. Pleased by the sensation I do twelve more during the course of the day…just because.

It’s that pleasant tension-pressure feel, really–like a loose tooth you keep prodding at–and this is the kind of soreness that by far exceeds the sensation of actual muscle pains that most “new” exercises cause. Besides, I think hanging in the air–while pulling my knees up to my chest–is having a good effect on my back. I didn’t feel a twinge today. Yay!

Editing doesn’t get done during the morning session. While I’m sipping coffee, big brother and I get distracted by the plot of the next story, and then move on to other topics when CNN newscasters draw our attention.

One has to understand the dynamics to fully imagine how watching the news goes around here. It is not a matter of a bunch of people just sitting there taking in the reports. No. Everything and anything that comes past gets discussed, argued about and occasionally scoffed at…quite vocally, most of the time. Hah. It brings up remarkably passionate debates that can go on for hours–the way they did today.

By the time sunset arrives, we haven’t gotten through more than a couple of pages, and I shut the computer down to start dinner.
No one’s really hungry, so in the end I settle on a soup made out of fresh cherry and normal tomatoes, onions, some red bell pepper, Chinese spices, and a big tablespoon of apricot jam to give the brew a sweeter taste.

What with the way fresh produce is grown these days, a lot of taste has disappeared from veggies and fruits. I remember when I was a child that apples, tomatoes and practically every other veggie and fruit were taste-bud-teasers, while now everything has become sorta bland–unless one is willing to spend a fortune of bio products. It’s such a pity, and another example of quantity having won the battle over quality, in most cases.

With a spoonful of cottage cheese added to the portions, the family members devour the soup. The bread supply rapidly decreases and proves that hunger has been hiding up until the soup stirred it to life. Hah.

I digest the meal for about half an hour, watching a rerun of Dharma & Greg, and then move to the kitchen to clean up in preparation of the seemingly endless project we started preparing for months ago.

I’m determined to get the spice drawers up today, and while one by one the sibs join me, we slowly get down to business.
Sanding down wood that has been covered by years of grime–hidden in niches that were invisible until we broke down the old section–is a messy chore that has little sister’s muttering her grievances over all the while. Middle sister and I start fitting the long stretches that need to be attached under the top cupboards as soon as they’re cleaned.

There are a few hiccups along the way, but around eleven O’clock, with little sister and little brother–who’s joined us for the first time in weeks now that he’s decided to take a break from his computer–painting the new sections we’ve hung.

The atmosphere’s a little silly. The two youngest sibs are uttering exaggerated complaints about having to bend and twist on top of the counter to get the job done. It is quite a task, and I admit more than once–gleefully–that I’m VERY happy that they’re doing the honors. This, of course, earns me more than one eye roll as I lay it on thick.

With the youngest two painting away, middle sister and I are working on adding real wood decorations, to cover up the exposed boards that were used to create the casings of the twenty-something spice drawers. There is a lot of laughter, when the awkward positions underneath the hanging cupboards cause inevitable spills, and the evening steadily progresses.

Clean up follows, after which big brother and I settle behind our computers once more to try our hand at another hour of editing. It goes well. We go through a full chapter before it’s time to call it a day and I cast a final glance at the progress made in the kitchen today before I chase the dogs out into the night and head on up to my quarters.

I’m pleasantly weary tonight, and there are several messages that add to the general state of well being as the last few hours pass behind the computer.

The review I wrote on Amazon got posted, and while I read through it I’m pretty content that it was a job well done–especially for a first try.
It’s just an honest subjective opinion that was a nice experiment to try out. An experiment I might, or might not repeat, at some point when I come across a story that inspires me.

Well, I’m running late, as usual. So I’ll wrap things up here, and call it a day.

School, cleanliness and...semi-demolition.

It is pleasantly warm when I wake up this morning, the wind having died down considerably during the night, allowing the sun to warm the mountain with wonderfully bearable temperatures. This allows me to step out on my porch without huddling in my multitude of layers when I let the dogs out.

They have showed some of their annoying tendencies during the early hours of day, of course, but they aren’t making a racket for a change while I turn the key and jump away before Knight II actually plows right over me in his haste to get out of the cabin.

Bliss, it is momentarily the only thing I can feel as for the first time in days I am able to shed two of the four layers I’m wearing and move freely while going through the morning rituals.

I manage to get in a quick read before it is time for me to get dressed and head for the house dressed only in clean Jeans and a warm turtleneck sweater that keeps me just warm enough on my way down. The dogs dash into the house the moment I open the door–big brother has closed it to keep his pack from making a racket in the courtyard– and shake my head when the two packs collide and go through their morning greetings with a mix of suspicion and excitement, just the way they do every single day. You’d think they get used to it.

What with our agreement not to edit today unless we really felt inspired, I can calmly go do my workout this day, changing into my exercise clothes and putting on my usual list of music before I start my warm up.

It goes well enough, now that the main pack is still locked in the patio and in individual bedrooms, allowing me to move freely through the motions. By the time I’ve done the warm ups and move over to the punching bag, big brother has put his computer aside and is doing his own exercises while occasionally trying to have a coherent conversation with me.

With me punching the bag, and him lifting weights, it is a funny sight, to say the least.
And no matter how often I remind him that I can’t respond while I’m counting out my routines, he always forgets, throwing me off count and making me grunt my displeasure when I need to start over, just to be sure that I do them all.

When, at long last, the five-jab sequence is over and done with, I do some stretches to catch my breath and take the weights from big brother to slowly cool off. I do this only so I won’t be going through the agony of punch-soreness…which always happens if I don’t do some weightlifting afterwards.

Strange how punching works: Instead of pumping muscles it really makes them tight and wiry, which, I’ve learned, is rather painful at the end of a day.
As I sometimes describe to little sister who shows some curiosity for the workout; without weightlifting, you start to feel as if someone stabs a corkscrew between your shoulders, and turns it around full force.

Hmmm. Looking at it written down I can suddenly understand the face little sister pulled when I explained it. Hah. But anyways, watching big brother do pull-ups and knee-ups on the bar that hangs on the ceiling beside my punching bag, I can’t resist trying it out, if just once…the knee-ups at least.

I manage 8 of the reps before my hands start hurting, and grimace when I hop back down and wonder what good they’ll do if I don’t even feel my abdominal muscles while going through the motions. You’re supposed to feel them while doing this exercise, big brother proclaims, before he starts pondering the possibility that female muscles are differently aligned than those of men, and that I might be using others.
Whatever. I do know that crunches do more for me than this particular work out and proceed to go through forty of them before I consider today’s session done.

What follows is a hot shower to ease the remaining tension from my limbs, and getting dressed to have breakfast.
Working out during the summer months is a lot more pleasurable. During workout it is practically impossible to wear a lot of clothes, and though it isn’t much of a problem while actually doing it, afterwards cooling off is a tricky thing. In the summer I would just jump in the pool for cooling off, while now I need to hurry for a hot shower before I seize up completely.

I’m not really hungry today, so I only eat a small piece of bread before pouring a mug of coffee and heading to the table to set up my computer across from big brother who has settled back down again. It is late already, and the sibs are coming down the stairs by the time I open up the programs I’ll need today.

Since I’m not in the mood for editing, I decide to start on a review I promised for C.S. Marks’ “Elfhunter” and try to divide my attention between that and big brother who’s brainstorming out loud about our next vampire story project across from me.

With only occasional and absent input from me, he writes down the details, but I don’t really resurface from the task at hand until it is time to get ready to go town for our lessons.
I’ve pretty much finished the rough draft of the review by this time, and shut the computer down before I head on up to my cabin to change into different clothes.

Though today’s outfit was clean, the clothes I wear at home are remarkably different from those I wear when I need to go out. At-home-clothes usually have holes, permanent stains and actual tears in them–it is inevitable with our pack, really–and unless there are dire circumstances, I really don’t venture out into the world in them. The stares…they make a body wonder if one has grown a second head, that’s a fact.

I worry about this every once in a while, I’ll admit.
This predominant expectation of a lot of people expecting everyone to look just-so on any given day.
Sure, I get being clean, but in all honesty, minding a hole or two, and even a permanent paint stain here and there…well that’s just superficial in my estimation.

As if there aren’t more important things to consider that outside appearances.
Like manners, friendliness and overall pleasant company that is lacking more and more when I visit stores and malls. These things don’t appear to be the most important things these days, which is a shame, really. Sometimes I fear that the world’s general drive for “cleanliness”, “neatness”, “being fashionable” and overall opinion of what “isn’t done” is erasing things that are so much more important.
These days, when I see a sales clerk or even a customer walking around with actual dirty clothes I’m thinking; “Finally, someone who’s got more important things to think of than outside appearances.”

Ah well, be as that may, I change into my “presentable” clothes and move on to the car. I’m huddling in my vest once more, since a fierce wind is sweeping down the mountain once more, chilling me to the bone during the few minutes that I stand there.

It is late by the time big brother and I arrive at our school, but still there are other students there, working at the computers when we settle down for the count, and immerse ourselves in boring questions.

The tests don’t go as well as I’d hoped this time. Only one without error, today. The seven others have an average of one mistake as an hour and a half passes and we call it a night to head for the El Corte Inglés to buy a couple of headsets for our computers.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Alta, one of our Perro de Agua’s managed to find his way into my computer bag, and was blithely taking out the contents while I was immersed into one project or other and didn’t notice the infraction until he had decimated my headphones completely.
Big brother’s had developed a high buzz in the left ear, so with this in mind we bought two new ones, and then head back home.

Little sister cooked dinner while we were gone, so after greeting the jubilant dogs, I quickly wolf down a portion of the delish Asian noodle dish and start looking around the kitchen to see what can be done today.

The spice drawers! I’ve wanted to see them in place from the day we hung the top cupboards, and with middle sister’s help we start examining the way they are fastened in their previous location.

It takes some figuring, but in the end we find all the bolts and screws and take apart the top section that still hangs over the last part of the old kitchen.
Somewhere in the midst of this activity, big brother joins us, and with his help we manage to take them down for the treatment with primer and paint that will be necessary to make them match the rest of the new kitchen.

Recycling. We’ve become very good at it over the years, I’ll admit. Unless something is literally disintegrating–or close to it–in our hands we’ll reuse it, and this time is no exception. Old screws that are still useable are meticulously gathered, wood set aside of possible later use, and only the absolute worst is thrown on the rapidly growing mountain of debris the old kitchen is becoming just outside the courtyard.

Much to my disappointed, disassembling, resizing and cleaning takes so long that we don’t manage to put the spice drawers up by the time midnight is drawing scarily close. The cleanup needing to be done is daunting, and for a while we just stand there, wondering where to start now that all the counters are covered with sections, wood fragments and other stuff that has been removed.

First things first: Middle sister has taken down the section of narrow strips of wood that used to crown the old counter, and planks are a messy pile with nasty nails sticking out.

While we start removing the nails so the wood can be put into storage, little sister start cleaning the new counter, for as far as this is possible with no place to put the sections that we wish to reuse.

It takes a solid hour before we’re finally done, and utter a unified sigh of relief now that a semblance of order and neatness has returned to our kitchen.
No matter that certain areas still look like a construction site…it is that, nonetheless…things are definitely looking up as we have a short discussion about what’s up next. As soon as the last bit of the old counter is removed, I’m going to have to put in the tiles that are missing beneath that particular section. Once that is done, we’re going to have to move the twin fridge and freezer to the other side of the kitchen, and this is going to be a harrowing task to say the least.

The thought alone exhausts me, and soon thereafter I head on up to my cabin to feed the dogs, read a bit, put the finishing touches in the review and post it, before starting on my messages and writing today’s Blog.

Check, check, cheheck and check. All done for the night!