Not hacked to bits, but crazy none the less...

It turns out that being a grownup is exhausting. It requires far more energy to sweep stairs and clean the attic than it does to solve murders via Law and Order reruns and as such, I am both smelly and tired.

Remember that huge crap purge I did this spring? Let me tell you, it made a huge difference in cleaning up the basement (yesterday) and the attic (today). The attic only took about an hour since all that was really required was for me to put the luggage away properly and put away four bins worth of dress up clothes. I was quite pleased with myself, so pleased in fact that I had ice cream for lunch.

My most ridiculous project by far is my latest round of slipcover dyeing. I have finally found a Rit Dye recipe with which I am happy (1 package of scarlet, 1 package of wine) and have proceeded to buy out the local craft shops of these colors. This has required much driving around. This is the sort of project which cannot be accomplished without much swearing, not because it is particularly difficult (it requires almost no skill), but because the timing is critical.

The dye must be poured into the washer and allowed to agitate. Only after it has agitated a few minutes can the (already wet) slipcover be put in. Then the washer must be allowed to agitate vigorously. My washer only allows for a 15 minute agitation cycle which means that I must not become distracted by Plants vs. Zombies and forget to pause the cycle and allow the whole mess to steep like my mothers tea. (If you knew my mother you would understand this reference. Like a good woman of French Canadian lineage she makes her first cup of tea when she wakes up and allows it to steep for hours before she finally drinking it after reheating it in the microwave. I promise that right now somewhere in my mothers house, tea is steeping.) The longer the steeping, the better the color. Inevitably I become distracted by a dog, an email or my important job of killing zombies with plants and then I jump up, swear loudly and run down the basement steps to fling open the washer so that I am not a complete fabric dye failure.

Why do I get involved in such insanity? Because spending $40 on fabric dye is cheaper than buying actual new slipcovers and allows me to indulge in my English housewife fantasy. Why do I imagine that English housewives spend their days stirring pots of fabric dye? I have no idea, but it comforts me, so please do not tell me otherwise.

Today also involved the purchase and application of some spackle. I got the heavy duty stinky sort of spackle because the area in need of spackle happens to be the ceiling above David's CPAP machine and I felt that perhaps this was not an area in which I should skimp. 

Today I dyed three IKEA chair slipcovers. I still have the couch to do and I am sorry to say, I have run out of wine colored dye and will have to venture out again tomorrow for more.

We are on Day 17 of Rebecca's mystery illness. We should know more sometime this week when the blood work results come in, but in the meantime I am taking her out on short outings. To craft stores. Several times a day. A mother's love knows no bounds.

Lastly, you may remember that several articles of clothing had gone missing from around the house. The items in question were a bikini of mine, a bra and some of Lily's clothes. My experience as a reader of mystery novels told me that my things had been undoubtedly stolen by a mad serial killer and I was going to be hacked to bits any day. In turns out that all of the clothes were at my dad's house where I left them the last time we visited. Crisis averted.