I went pretty darned near crazy over the weekend and I didn't like it one bit. Good ol' Durwood let me cry on his shoulder and be a nut job. He's a good egg. For some reason I (or my innerHitler) have gotten the idea that crying, like to mourn Mom, makes me a weakling *throws hands up* so I've been tamping it down since late October. This is not good, not for my stomach (which has been in knots for about 10 days), not for my molars (which I tend to grind when I'm stressed and holding it in), not for the organized, purposeful reclamation of 1508 (picking out flooring, getting a painter hired & started). I've been frantically flapping around for about a week and it all came to a head on Sunday. I felt tight-throated when I got up and by the time Porter and I got here and Durwood said, "what's wrong?" the flood was upon me. Crycrycrycry, hiccup, crycrycry. I hated it and I didn't let it go on for long, but it felt good to get even that little bit out. I feel another one coming on (knotted stomach's giving it away) but I'm not as reluctant to let it out (see old dogs can learn new tricks). We found some great carpeting and fake slate flooring at Dalton Carpet Outlet on Sunday, and this afternoon I'll find an installer from Menard's to put in the laminate in the kitchen/dinette. Spanky from the dive shop's out of work so he'll paint, he started washing walls yesterday. I'm usually so calm, I don't know why I'm stirring this tempest in my teapot. Durwood commented that I'm overwhelmed and I had a mental image of having only a very thin layer of "whelm" left right now. I am definitely over that. The other person I need is a cleaning lady for one giant scrubbing of the kitchen & bath. I'll schedule that for the very end of the month. Now all we need is a tenant. I think the possibility of having one April 1 is nearly passed but I showed it earlier and he works at the bank just behind us so maybe they'll move in May 1. Okay, open jaw, drop shoulders, take a deep breath, and move on. Got lots on the list to cross off today.
March 19--Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still. The skyscrapers made the street feel like it was at the bottom of a canyon. After growing up on the edge of the Great Plains, Sheila relished the feeling. At home everything was low to the ground so that tornadoes skipped by doing minimal damage. Here the buildings were afraid of the weather. They thrust up toward the sky as if seeking out the terrible twisting winds to joust with. The sky at home went on forever; it made Sheila feel small with its vastness. Here the skyscrapers cut the sky into manageable bits and the lights outshone the stars. She had always felt that the stars were peepholes that allowed dead people or alien things to spy down upon her. She was happier here among the skyscrapers, she felt safe.
Next on my agenda is to finally finish the Monster Pouch I'm making for a swap and send it off. Today's the deadline. Why finish on time when I can come screaming up to the finish in the nick of time?