March 2009


I’m finally settled into my new place. As some of you know, my two rooms (in shared housing) needed to be brought up to standard before I could move in. The bedroom walls were painted a hideous and depressing navy blue and its floor looked like dangerous, old planks in a barnyard attic. Certainly fit for hooves, but not for my feet. The living room needed painting as well. Thankfully the paint was only dirty beige. The floor was a thick, cruddy, blood brown color. The crud had to be sanded off and the floor freshly varnished. You may ask why the landlord didn’t handle those things? Because that’s not the way it’s done over here. Generally, if you want something done, you have to do it yourself and pay the cost. I had to buy the paint, the carpet, rent the sander and edger, and whatever supplies I needed without the benefit of having a car. Do you see my dilemma? *fake smile*

I hired a very able bodied worker to get the work done. Her partner did me a favor and chauffeured me to pick up the supplies. The job estimate was three days. Alas, the sander didn’t work properly and the sandpaper kept ripping off the machine. The edger wouldn’t work because one of its wheels kept falling off. After three days of using useless equipment, the nice woman who’d chauffeured me, helped me carry the sander – which weighed two tons – down a large flight of steps and into the trunk of her car. We delivered the crap equipment back and I asked for another edger. There was no way I was busting my guts carrying a sander back up a flight of steps. The second edger didn’t work back at location because this time, the wheels were too large. The able bodied worker did her best without the use of any proper equipment. I joined her on the fifth day (she didn’t have any more time to spare) and helped with the manual sanding and the varnishing.

The nice Rental Agency did not erase their charges even though their equipment was faulty. They were kind enough to give me a very small reduction and after I kept insisting. You may wonder why I didn’t raise more hell and teach them about customer service? Because Dorothy is no longer in Kansas and customer service is a foreign concept in these here parts.

Since I had no furniture, I had to sleep on the thinly carpeted bedroom floor for two/three nights. I was surrounded by my boxes so had a sense of familiarity. *wipes tears* I also didn’t have a thick blanket to warm me during the cold nights and practically froze my bits off. Not to mention that I couldn’t move any parts of my body in the morning without breaking bones that had frozen in place. The furniture I had ordered (from Ikea) wouldn’t be delivered for a few more days. Because I’m tough. I should have been able to bear it. *weeps loudly*

The furniture arrived. A bed, a wardrobe, a sofa, a table top and legs to make a desk, a coffee table. Everything arrived in pieces in boxes. Not a few large pieces, but loads of little pieces like in a jigsaw puzzle, only more intricate. It took me days to get things put together. Then more days to take them apart – because they were put together wrong. And then more days to realize that it wasn’t my fault and for Ikea to pick up their faulty furniture.

After all this time and effort, I still had no Duvet to keep me warm during the cold nights or even a pillow to rest my head. By now, my flat pack/furniture hands were swollen and full of splinters. *rubs fingertips* My bones ached from sleeping on a hard floor and I was feeling pretty damn miserable. I called a friend and asked if she could give me a ride to Ikea – to get the rest of the things I needed. She asked if I had tried a bus or a cab first. ☺

I caught the bus to Ikea and bought lamps, sheets, towels and the softest Duvet ever made. By the time I left Ikea, it was dark. I caught the bus home and just as I’d dreaded it happened. It was the wrong bus. I ended up in an area where people didn’t know which bus I should take or even where I could catch a cab. By the time I got home hours later, I was so miserable, I wanted to chop off my fingers and throw them in the trash.

My bed (made of 75 friggin Ikea pieces) is finally up. I sleep warmly at night. My clothes have been unpacked and been put away, I have a desk, a couch and a coffee table. I make myself hot tea every day and I’m officially settled in. My bedroom window doesn’t have a blind. Who cares? The blanket tacked to the wall is fine by me. The three naked light cords hanging off the ceiling are fine too. I’ll install new lamp fittings when I get a round toit. * wink, wink * The only thing I need to tackle is this cold, throat, sinus, headache hell thing I’m enduring. If you’re a nurse with kind hands and a soothing voice, could you please remove the splinters from my fingertips and kiss my feverish brow?

Thank you and good night.

I’m a member of a lesbian message board that does something rather unique.  We meet in person and socialize with each other.  What is also fun about our group is that we know and call each other by our message board names. Mine is simple.  SteadyCat.

Holalola thought of having a cake meet and got antsy bakers to whip up something good to share.  AJ found a community center that would allow the cake baking women and their many fans to eat and chat until we were full and satisfied.

 I was an official taster because as everyone knows, I can’t cook.  I won’t cook.  I really dislike cooking.  But, I’m excellent at eating really good food.  There were twenty-two bakers and three tasters expected at the Cake Meet.  When I arrived, with my palate set for action, I could barely squeeze inside the room.  The fifty people already there looked quite happy as they surrounded the cakes and chatted as if they hadn’t exchanged information just that morning on the boards. There must have been about thirty cakes crowning the table.  There was coffee cake, lemon tarts, chocolate cake, brownies and please don’t ask me to name them all because I can’t.  Just know that they looked beautiful and tasted divine. I have pictures to prove it.

 

 

I’ve just read author, Nicola Griffith’s  blog and was both saddened and angered by the news. According to the LA Times, the California Supreme Court “strongly indicated Thursday it would rule that Proposition 8 validly abolished the right for gays to marry but would allow same-sex couples who wed before the November election to remain legally married.”  

They followed their indication. 

My comment: Why don’t we just vote to make sure all our neighbors never have the same rights.  It’s legal to do so in California and soon, in your neighborhood as well.  Oh, I forgot.  Your neighborhood never gave non-heterosexual adults in a committed relationship the right to marry.  Don’t worry, someone with money and power and no since of  fairness or equal treatment will think of rights to take away from you.  It will be shown that we are all in this together.  

Note to my blogging buddies:  I’m still moving and I won’t be blogging  for a couple more weeks.  🙂

I haven’t been writing much and wanted you to know that I probably won’t for several more weeks.  I’m moving from my flat to a different (and cheaper) location.  The place I’m moving to has to be painted, floors repaired, carpet put down, etc.  I’m responsible for getting it done or else I’d have to move in as is – which I couldn’t bear.  What with the repair work there, packing boxes and closing accounts here, shopping for furniture and basic necessities – because I’ve only lived in places that were already furnished – and have none of my own.  I’m doing all this without a car.  If you live near me, be a good samaritan and offer up that foot massage.  *rubs toe*

I’ll be thinking of all my blogger buddies as I work, work and do more work. I’m looking forward to seeing you near the end of the month.

Signed,

tired SteadyCat in London