Finally in the shower at 2 pm this afternoon after a morning of cleaning, moving furniture and emptying closets... again. Back in my previous life I had innocently scheduled new carpet to be installed in the bedroom on Tuesday, March 17. I then had the ambitious idea on the Friday before and reasoning since we had to move everything out anyway, this was an excellent time to paint the room first. I have always hated the orangey color in the room. However, it has apparently taken me 38 years to get REALLY tired of it only prefaced by the fact I was getting new carpeting. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but new carpeting prompts last minute re-decorating projects.
The OH was less than enthusiastic as there was only the weekend to get it done regardless of my plucky insistence that we already have leftover paint in a color I like; how long could it take; how hard could it be? Well as to the lst point, OH's motto is that it is never wrong to have more so off to Home Depot to get another can of the preferred paint color (took him days to let me know, we never had to crack the new can). Item 2- two and a half days; and of course Item 3 - a whole lot of cleaning, moving, prepping, etc. Over all these years of painting projects I am still the one who does trim and baseboards but never the rolling part. Sitting on the floor squinting at baseboards for two days becomes more of an aerobic exercise leading to a ballet of flailing and cussing just to stand up again. But I'm a stubborn cuss and when I start a project I finish even as I regret every painful moment. I may be living with my current paint choices, like forever.
Although ready for install on March 17 we all know what happened Monday, March 16. At midnight we became contestants in the quarantine game for the next 6-8 weeks. I realize it wasn't personal but a definite "woe is me" moment with bedrooms filled with extra furniture, drawers, shoes, extraneous odds and ends was a bit of a nightmare. The good news; we certainly weren't doing any entertaining anytime soon. How could there be so much STUFF in one room? Finding missing, necessary items became a daily game, but with my penchant for disposal without a thought it was rather cathartic and nostalgic at the same time. I found BABY HAIR from my first hair cut in a box with my Mother's handwriting on it. Who does that? Well I do actually. I probably have my daughter's hair somewhere waiting to freak her out when the time comes to clean out my stuff.
Construction got the "get out of jail free" card for May 7 so our ecstatic carpet dude was on the phone immediately to schedule our install. I am sure they are happy to get back to work AND to get a little cash flow going. Spent the morning cleaning, moving furniture and emptying closets...again for an 8 am start on the morrow.
Anyway to get back to the shower and the theme of this rant. Almost forgot which is rather the point. I noticed the soap was down to a nubbin and wanted to be sure I put a new bar out. Yes, yes, I know. I am way behind the times as I use soap and a washcloth! Egads has the woman gone mad? Who doesn't buy an exquisite body cleaner in a sassy, sexy squirt bottle which is lovingly applied by hand in this day and age? Well mostly because soap is cheaper and I don't have the right type of shower massager.... but I digress. Anyway a memory trick I use to help me remember is to repeat the item at least ten times out loud. Of course when one is in the shower it must be put to song so anyone in hearing distance was assaulted with my personal creation of "A Cake of Soap" with a catchy melody. Quit judging; this isn't American Idol.
I find as I get older remembering is not quite as efficient as it used to be. My theory is as we age we have been blessed with so much knowledge that it takes a tad more time to process. We know the answers on Jeopardy, just takes a little longer to bring it up from whatever mental filing system one maintains. Although I have modernized my internal filing system to a CD ROM, I am not quite to the flash drive level of retention and regurgitation. Of course things could change when I become old, which at the moment I believe is anyone five years older than me. That used to be ten years older so reality of setting in. At any rate, when I am older I may be reduced back to pencil and paper and an abacus to reach total recall. Oh yes, I remembered to put the new soap out, or did I? I better check.
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