Garage 2

Sweet jebus.

I am close to done. 3 walls out of 4 are done, and the 4th wall only has tools. The props are mostly packed and back in the house, and the floors is swept and vacuumed.

I need to emphasize again the quantity of crap in this garage.

Total linear feet: 60.
Stacked about 8 feet high (on average, I would say)
about 2 feet thick.

960 cubic feet of stuff. So if you picked up a box (that was one cubic foot) a day and moved it, it would take two years to empty. TWO YEARS.

Garage cleaning

So I have been cleaning out my garage, and by cleaning out, I mean.. emptying. It has to be emptied to be moved, so that the house can be moved, so that the basement can be repoured. It's a complex tapestry, ok?

Anyway, I'm cleaning out the garage. Today I set aside about a cord of building materials and props that I want to keep, a cord of building supplies that I hope people will steal, and about a cord of garbage.

For many years I have said that my garage is not that bad. "Oh, there's a few things in there, but it's under control," I would say, or "Yah, I'll get it cleaned out one day".

Well. the ratio of what I thought it would take to clean out and what it has actually taken is about 3:1. I would say that I only knew about a third of the deposits and caches of things hidden in the garage. Some of the caches predate me, and are leftovers from the man I bought the house from.

So let this be a warning to you! If you are carrying around an albatross , it is bigger than you think! It is HUGE! HUUUUUUUUGE.

Reviewing

(2 blog posts in 2 days? I must be ill)

In a previous blog post, I talked about the concept that, as a solo unit, I can do what I like when I like and so I'm quite productive.

This is quite interesting to re-read now, when I'm in a place where I am putting quite a lot of work into being not solo any more and maybe making that a long-term arrangement.

There is trouble a-brewed between my 'single source of future' and she-who-does-not-have-a-blog-nickname, as one might expect. (I think the problem has largely been de-brewed, btw). It was very difficult to relinquish my stranglehold on the future and deliberately and, without any sense of confidence that I would agree, let someone else decide.

The next difficulty is trying to convince the decider, that though I don't agree necessarily, I support any decision made. This usually leads to attempting to convince me to agree, which I feel is moot at that point.

The physical energy piece is also an interesting one that has re-occurred, and that will need some management in the future. I remain able to do 6-8 hours of physical labour in the course of a day, and don't particularly enjoy having to stop. I don't want to change this, but I want it to not cause any distress. Mostly it doesn't.

Anyway, back to defensive driving class!

Muses (first draft)

(Note: I did not make a "Musing on Muses" pun. This is rare)

From Wikipedia: "Three ancient Muses were also reported in Plutarch's Quaestiones Conviviviales (9.I4.2-4).[5] The Roman scholar Varro relates that there are only three Muses: one who is born from the movement of water, another who makes sound by striking the air, and a third, who is embodied only in the human voice. However the Classical understanding of the muses tripled their triad, set at nine goddesses, who embody the arts and inspire creation with their graces through remembered and improvised song and stage, writing, traditional music, and dance."

It is clear that the Classical understanding is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Going back to the source, Varro, we will examine his three Muses:

"One is born from the movement of water". The movement of water, also known as the Hydrologic Cycle. Plutarch has not documented a graceful figure who trips lightly from rock to rock like the current of a stream in a beer ad causing artists to leap to their easels and create paintings using light tripping brush strokes or musicians to dot the staves with tiny effervescent symbols of sound; he has documented an unending pattern of repeating inspiration: 'Have you finished Hell yet, Dante? How 'bout now? You promised it to the Papal Legate three weeks ago. Are you working on it right now? You should work on it now. This is going to be like the Convivio again, isn't it? Why aren't you working on it right now?"

"One who makes sound by striking the air". This Muse is throwing punches!. Possibly also throwing crockery. The only reasonable explanation for why she is striking the air is that she is missing the artist. Lucky fellow. This muse is not a willowy figure flitting among the daisies; this muse is armed with a wallpaper sponge and about 8 milliseconds of patience. Not getting that aria finished, Giacomo? WHIIIIIZZZZ goes the wallpaper sponge, just over your head. You bet it'll get done. Trouble with the theory of relativity, Al? ZOOOOOOOOM, right in front of your face with the ol' sponge again. Inspiration better strike before she does, 'cause she's angry!

"One who is embodied only in the human voice" Ooh, you're a young artist, I bet you'd love a lilting voice singing Enya songs to inspire you, wouldn't you? has it occurred to you that the human voice can be used in some other ways? What you're getting, my friend, is the muse of shouting. You'll be locked in some quandary about what finger God is using to impart awesomeness to man, and you'll hear "WHY ISN'T THIS CEILING PAINTED YET, MICHAEL?" And of course, the reason she's embodied only in the voice is that you never get a chance to see her coming; she is invisible. If you're very lucky, you might get to hear the key in the door or the click of the latch before the 'inspiration' starts.

Old Varro there, he was smart. And he knew that artists, by and large, aren't. So he told them thus, "Guys, you want to be inspired and meet your potential? Find a partner who will not give up reminding you what you're supposed to be doing, has a strong pitching arm but the courtesy to not brain you without a warning shot, and who will have zero patience for your fits of artistic pique"

Lucky fellows, them artists!

Blogula!

Count Blogula, the undead blog, rises from the grave!

Since we last spoke, here's the various scoops:

My house remains obstinately on the ground, foiled by 'Audrey' at the Planning department of Prairie Metropolis. See, my house is so close to the house next door that the City would very much like it if the houses were torn down and replaced with something spaced a little farther apart. As of this morning, The Contractor and I, who are in constant contact, believe we are leaping the last hurdle even now. The main bone of confusion seems to be that the City thinks I am raising the house to a new level, when in fact, I am lowering it. Kinda.

I am continuing to live with She Who Does Not Have A Blog Nickname, and that is going very well. The condo is no bigger than it was, but that's ok, too. I do really miss living in Isambard, but that will come back in its time too. I am 100% aware of the stress that moving into that house may cause her, but I'm gonna make that play nonetheless when the time is right!

There is much to do on renovating it on the inside before that can happen, anyway, so
there's not a huge rush.

UPDATE: Audrey, the cruel empress of planning, has relinquished the house, and I am informed that we are marching forward. More details to follow.

Cohabitating, part... I don't know... 7?

A few more things I've noted:

1) Three cats produce approximately 1/2 a litre of hair a week. On laminate flooring, it 'pools' together due to the air stirred up by the passage of people, and fifth floor wind gusts.

2) It's really nice to live with someone who does laundry the same way you do. It's a huge thing-that-isn't-stressful.

3) Apartments are really small. The kitchens are small, the bedrooms are small, the living room is-- actually, pretty big.

4) Getting into the routines is a constant source of negootiation. Grocery buying the first time was a bit of a hassle, trying to buy groceries for two. I've evolved a somewhat strange style of grocery buying the last two years, based on gettign generic staples and some basic ingredients, THEN basing my menus on what I have. Turns otu there's a large body of folks what do it differently! Apparently you can buy gorciers by starting with the the menu THEN buying corresponding groceries.
Weird....

Guinea pigs.

Dear sir or madam,
Should we meet, I a civilized man of some taste and distinction, and
you, a person who poisons guinea pigs, I will punch you in the cock.
In the interim, I remain,
Yours truly,
The Stealthy Dachshund.

--
Sent from my mobile device