cleanliness is next to impossible

The world can now take a collective sigh of relief…I have showered.

Ok, I’m exaggerating. It hasn’t really been that long. But between the hornets and the clogged drain, it had been long enough. Thankfully, for the first time since we’ve moved into this scary old house, the tub actually drained. The entire time I was in the shower. Yep, that’s right…I didn’t have to stand in dirty water as I washed my hair, or shaved my legs or any other necessary bathing ritual I had pushed off over the course of the past few days.

In the case of my legs, it had been much longer.

You discover really quickly what you can get away with when your tub drains ten times slower than it fills up. First of all, shaving your legs is a damn luxury you can no longer afford. It takes way too long, and it’s sort of gross. Washing your hair, while necessary, also takes a long time. There is nothing nastier (ok, there is, but I can’t get into the entire list right now) than standing in a tub filling with gross water while you shower. And it’s even worse when you’re the second person to shower and the person before you took a really long one. And since my husband has to go to the office several days a week, I skipped my shower if it meant standing in his dirty water to do it.

Not today. Today, I emptied the hot water tank all on my own. And if felt freaking awesome! And it was perfect timing, by the way. It’s karaoke night. And I’m in the mood to sing. And I’ll even smell nice doing it.

Who could really ask for more than that?

Until the next time…I’ll be singing.

so, about this farm life thing...

I miss my kids. 

I miss my washer and dryer (still unplugged in the sunroom.) I miss hot water (still no ETA on the water heater repair.) I miss the hustle and bustle of the city (okay, the suburbs.)  I miss good cell reception, Dunkin Donuts, and Barnes and Noble. And I really, really miss my kids (I know, but it bears repeating). And living out of boxes sounds much more exciting in print than it is in real life.

But aside from all that, I love the mountain air, and the dogs are having fun investigating the green pastures.

The things that go bump in the night are still bumping, but as nothing bad has come of it, I’m not so inclined to worry. I do, however, reserve the right to change my mind in the future.

As for today, I spent part of it resting, and the other part unpacking boxes in the kitchen. I’ve decided the task requires a systematic approach. And why not start in the room with the food?

The first box unpacked was the one with the wine, and the wine glasses.

Isn’t it funny how a few sips of wine takes your mind off your worries? Ok, so maybe it takes a glass or two, but I’m definitely feeling more comfortable in my surroundings. Ghosts, coyotes, bugs, and scary basements be damned.

Now I just need to get the rest of the boxes unpacked and the house decorated. That might be the scariest proposition of all. I think I just might have a garage sale this weekend…sell things by the boxful.

Yep…sounds like a great plan.

Until the next time…I’ll be taking pictures!

I'm a writer...not a farmer

We’re finally doing it. We’re picking up and moving to the country. My husband is beside himself with excitement at the prospect of living on a farm…he’ll have fourteen acres to work with…and he’s already picking out baby chicks and planning what to plant. He has wonderful dreams of taking his crops to the farmer’s market to sell, and being completely self-sustainable in the event of a zombie apocalpse. I couldn’t be happier for him.

Well…until he mentioned this little thing about me helping him out there.

Umm…honey? Yeah, I’m a writer, not a farmer. I’m the girl who flees the rays of the sun, screaming like a vampire on spring break. I will write you a story about a farm. I will fawn over baby chicks through the glass, and make pitchers of lemonade from the safety of the great indoors. But I will not be driving a tractor in the midday sun through a field ripe with bugs, and snakes, and things that buzz around me like I might be lunch.

No…I’m definitely not cut out for the simple life.

I’ve decided we’re living out that old 60s sitcom, Green Acres. My husband is ready to flee the big city, and I’m ready to go shopping. I’m wondering where the multi-screen movieplex is. I’m searching for the Barnes and Noble…the closest one just happens to be a over an hour away…few miles from where I live now.

It should be interesting. At least I love the house. And I can imagine myself writing amazing stories in the eighty year old farm house with a basement torn straight out of The Ring.

I suppose I’ll survive…as long as I have cable TV and a WiFi connection.

Thank goodness my best friends in the whole wide world are never more than an internet connection away.

I’m going to be spending a lot of time online!

Until the next time…I’ll be packing!