Sunday, February 01, 2015

February is the new "New Year"

It's taken all of January to kick in and I'm still not right.  Mother is back to normal, manipulating anyone she can con.  Not me, I do what's necessary and no more.  My sister is consistant, a half hour visit and she leaves at speed. She's enjoying retirement, meditation classes, painting classes and lunching. Apparently I don't retire until mother does. I can barely look at her or speak on days I go down before I'm ready.  I just can't get past that week of dying when she decided not to, right on the top step of that Highway to Heaven.  She's now planning her 85th birthday, 6th of March, I'm planning on opening a vein.

Since I decided I wouldn't go there if I didn't want to, I've been throwing out piles of papers going back to 2006, science marches on. I've found things I thought I'd lost, writings I really wanted to keep and my new will which I could have sworn was put away with my other important papers.  I've ripped up love letters, where did I find such boring blokes but every now and then I still find traces of the ex. That's really exciting, do I rip it up or burn it?  I've just found another load of papers in the study and then there are the bank statements and 2013 accounts to be done to death. 150 craft magazines are now just a few pages in three folders, craft, jewellery and Christmas. Articles from New Scientist also whittled down to really interesting blog fodder in another small folder.  Christmas cards and rubbish brought from the Home when I thought she was going added to the recycle bin. I deny everything when she says "do you know what happened......"  The recycle bin has been so heavy some weeks that I've nearly overturned me taking it out.  The red bin hasn't been much better. I'm sure it's totally illegal to shove a toaster oven in it but I did.

I'm typing here in the company of my treadmill which is being used every day.  I'm up to 7 minutes twice a day, a little over 200 metres and burning off 20 calories in the process.  I'm not so much interested in losing weight as building up the muscles in my legs to offset the nerve damage in my feet where my balance is losing the battle.
The coffee table arrived from my sister and it is big big big.  I haven't decided where to move it, not until I finish vac'ing the rest of the carpet.  It's amusing the Bear to sit underneath it and look up through the glass.  It has one drawback, it smells of cigarette smoke, it's in the wood so I'm looking for orange oil furniture polish to see if that might fix it.
The chair is half a success.  The cushion is not working out, too hard, says Redylocks.  So we've decided to go for a half feather, half foam softer one.  There's no doubt ye olde fat bum would have crushed it down in time but it was putting pressure on my spine.  On the other hand, it is so nice to just stand up and walk away instead of these new lounge chairs that need a built in crane.  The Bear likes it.

And and and I've finished the ironing begun 6 months ago.  Right down to the sheets from mother's house that was sold 5 years ago.  Lovely thick Egyptian cotton which will be made into pillow cases in the near future.  It's the type of cotton that wears into softness the longer you use it.  I also got away with the Actil (made in Australia!)single sheet set, very pretty and she didn't use it because it was cold, good, no memories.  It will make a lovely night dress and frilled pillow cases. My sister didn't miss out, she grabbed all the pillow cases and the duck down doona at the same time.

Now I have a choice for the rest of the afternoon, finish off a present for mother to give next week and must be finished by tomorrow or, courtesy of Miss O'Dyne, finish reading the marvellous book about Georges the elegant department store which was trashed by Sydney's David Jones after they bought it.  Well, Sydney, what could you expect!  I'll just take another pill and make a decision.


Elephant's Child said...

I vote for reading Miss O'Dyne's blissful present. But then books trump everything I 'should' be doing anyway. Always.
Yay for huge steps in a positive direction. And hugs.

River said...

Yes, agree with EC, read the book first.
You've certainly been busy enough in other areas to warrant a break.
I suggest contacting one of those places that manufacture handmade wooden furniture, an antique restoration place for example and ask them for advice on removing the smoke smell from the coffee table. Before you buy the orange oil polish.

Ann ODyne said...

Ha! I love it when my pills kick in.
Take two, I do.
love to you dear Coppy.

Ann ODyne said...

now that I got beyond the happy frog and read your post:
May I suggest robustly that you check local paper service ads and phone for a weekly vacuum person. worth the money, absolutely worth the money. They bring their own 5-star suckmonster and all you have to do is put hand in purse. Let them negotiate all obstacles on the floor (ie just vac around them) as the point is to merely clear a way through the craft.

and "85" jesus fucking christ, I am not going to make 85, nor do I want to.
glad you are enjoying the gift. we have to keep looking at pretty things.
glad the chair is a benefit too, and terribly impressed at your treadmill diligence, although I do caution on overdoing it. Go gently and you won't tire of it.
Onward and upward darling!

JahTeh said...

EC, it's such a walk down memory lane although I was more a Buckley's girl with my sister working there in cosmetics.

River, have just bought my first Harry Dresden novel so it's neck and neck about which I'll go for first.

Annie O, I did that two years ago but they didn't do it as well as I do when I do it. My problem is, it doesn't stay done.

I'm just in from the Home, depressed and halfway through a bag of scorched almond anti-depressants. She hadn't been given her ventolin twice this morning and by this afternoon could barely breathe. But still giving orders to everyone between puff and huff. No treading tonight, I would lie down and let it run over me.

Sir Marshall Stacks said...

scorched almonds are a rich source of calcium ... if they don't have chocolate covering ... and no treadmill. see how she impacts your well-being? WE need that ventolin more than anyone in this hyperventilating story.

The vacuum service certainly does not need to be perfect, just frequent. regular, relentless. If you could just find the right kind of person it would be such a good thing.

That nicotine soaked coffee table is easily solved by turning it upside down and spraying the underneath with Mr Sheen. a pushover .... ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa
love from the bush

Fenstar de Luxe said...

I wish I had pills to kick in

JahTeh said...

Thanks Stacks but the top has panes of glass that fall out and I've put them in safely once, not doing that again.

Fen, I've just read all the things you have lined up for next year, you don't need pills, you need cloning.

River said...

"I plan on opening a vein"
Yours? please, please, NO.
Mother's? meh.

R.H. said...

Sorry to be up so late.

Just popping in to say I've been awarded an AM. Am expecting to be addressed as Your Worship from here on.
Be careful getting up from your armchair. You're a big lady. Get stuck and it could rise with you.

(His Worship)

R.H. said...

The vacuuming made me think of my pal Ross M. Walker, now living in Queensland. In the Eighties he lived at 79 Grey Street St Kilda, an old Victorian: two floors of drunks and Night Ladies.
He had a room upstairs and pissed in bottles, because:

1. He was lazy.

2. The Night Ladies were always in the dunny shooting up.

He had these bottles of stale piss all around the floor (some on the mantelpiece), and one day during an attack of the DT's the drunken caretaker decided to vacuum all the rooms (an astonishing idea).
He came in as we were going out. So I said to Rossle what's going on, this joint is getting classy. "He'll have to vacuum around the piss bottles," is all he said.

R.H. said...

It's terrible how much you miss people. Rossle the Tossle, even the dirty tricks he pulled on me are funny now. Really. He cost me money at times, but made me laugh. Which beats everything.

JahTeh said...

Robbert, if anyone deserved a knighthood, it was you. You've annoyed more people in the blogosphere in the past 10 years than Phil the Greek has in the whole world.
Nowt wrong with a pee bottle, my grandfather always carried one on the train from Ferntree Gully to the City for emergencies but then he had no class.

R.H. said...

Why carry a bottle on the train when you can piss straight out the doorway?

Thank you Miss J, awfully kind. As always.

JahTeh said...

Robbert. Splashback????

R.H. said...

Really, for heaven's sake!- you point the old boy toward the rear of the train!



(Sometimes I think there are things mother never told you)