Stepping, Stumbling, Spinning
The dogs have retreated to their other dad's house for a little less than a week this time, so it's my night to begin de-doggifying the apartment: washing sheets, pillowcases, blankets, duvet cover, bathroom rug, dropcloths over couch and armchair (sometimes even the couch's slipcover itself); vacuuming all the rooms; dusting if it's time for that (it is); mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors; tidying up mulch strewn about in the backyard; etc.
It's a good feeling to start fresh and have a clean apartment for at least a few days. When I lived with the dogs and my ex full-time, it was a continually losing battle against dirt and fur and disorder. Sometimes the de-doggifying takes the better part of the week or so they're gone, and by the time I have everything back to its unsullied state, the dogs are back too.
When I wasn't stripping bedding and loading the washer tonight, I was doing reading for the class I teach on Wednesday. I took a brief break from that to practice my two-step footing. It would have been quite a sight for a fly on the wall to see me, in my bare feet, quick-quick-slow-slowing back and forth through my wall-to-wall-carpeted quasi-railroad flat. Truthfully, more than the footing itself, I was practicing two-stepping without thinking about it. I'd like to get to the point where I can carry on a conversation or even enjoy, if not occasionally sing along to, a favorite song without losing step.
Speaking of footing, I'm restarting a condo hunt I put on the back burner last summer when I realized I couldn't afford any place I'd actually want to live in. Then later in the year, it seemed as though the market might be turning in the favor of people like me, and that in fact turned out to be the case as 2006 dawned. Now that my financial situation is slightly stronger, I'm gearing up again. I looked at two places over the weekend. Neither was right for me, but at one of them I bonded with the very nice selling agent over dog talk. I think I'm going to call her this week and see if she'd work with me as my agent. She hinted that she would.
Another reason I gave up the search last year was that I never clicked with my super-successful, mega-wealthy (I saw his house), impatient (albeit perfectly polite) agent, who couldn't seem to be bothered with me. To give you an idea, he never once accompanied me to any of the properties he alerted me to; he either sent his assistant or told me to go look on my own.
I find the whole house-hunting process intimidating -- made more so by the fact that I'm a first-time buyer at my ripe old age. That's a long story that some of you know, and I'm afraid I'm not about to go into it here for those who don't. Not tonight anyway.
I've always referred to myself as a late bloomer. But the flip side of that is that I suppose you could say I'm younger than my years in some ways. That's my spin on it tonight anyway.
Okay, there's no room in my apartment to spin -- even with an imaginary partner -- but I was dancing.
It's a good feeling to start fresh and have a clean apartment for at least a few days. When I lived with the dogs and my ex full-time, it was a continually losing battle against dirt and fur and disorder. Sometimes the de-doggifying takes the better part of the week or so they're gone, and by the time I have everything back to its unsullied state, the dogs are back too.
When I wasn't stripping bedding and loading the washer tonight, I was doing reading for the class I teach on Wednesday. I took a brief break from that to practice my two-step footing. It would have been quite a sight for a fly on the wall to see me, in my bare feet, quick-quick-slow-slowing back and forth through my wall-to-wall-carpeted quasi-railroad flat. Truthfully, more than the footing itself, I was practicing two-stepping without thinking about it. I'd like to get to the point where I can carry on a conversation or even enjoy, if not occasionally sing along to, a favorite song without losing step.
Speaking of footing, I'm restarting a condo hunt I put on the back burner last summer when I realized I couldn't afford any place I'd actually want to live in. Then later in the year, it seemed as though the market might be turning in the favor of people like me, and that in fact turned out to be the case as 2006 dawned. Now that my financial situation is slightly stronger, I'm gearing up again. I looked at two places over the weekend. Neither was right for me, but at one of them I bonded with the very nice selling agent over dog talk. I think I'm going to call her this week and see if she'd work with me as my agent. She hinted that she would.
Another reason I gave up the search last year was that I never clicked with my super-successful, mega-wealthy (I saw his house), impatient (albeit perfectly polite) agent, who couldn't seem to be bothered with me. To give you an idea, he never once accompanied me to any of the properties he alerted me to; he either sent his assistant or told me to go look on my own.
I find the whole house-hunting process intimidating -- made more so by the fact that I'm a first-time buyer at my ripe old age. That's a long story that some of you know, and I'm afraid I'm not about to go into it here for those who don't. Not tonight anyway.
I've always referred to myself as a late bloomer. But the flip side of that is that I suppose you could say I'm younger than my years in some ways. That's my spin on it tonight anyway.
Okay, there's no room in my apartment to spin -- even with an imaginary partner -- but I was dancing.
posted by Billy at 10:30 PM
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