I just returned from the basement -

Carrying in my hand a box cutter and Martha Stewart’s Homekeeping Handbook. Which might prove that I’ve begun my true descent into madness. If anyone asks later where it all began, you can point to these moments. The lingering dog malodorousness that followed her from the old house and lingered there still and there was nothing she could do about it from afar. So she researched and amassed her weapons of vinegar-based cleaners, lemons, cloves and possibly something called zeophyte, as well as a list of plans to chuck everything that retained any wisp of mustiness or eau du dog.

I mean I seriously want to go back down in the basement this instant and rummage through the boxes of unpacked linens and banish everything that holds that scent. It’s irrational, obviously. I can totally wash everything and make it fresh and it will be fine. But I’m having a moment. I’m lashing out against linens because my house isn’t selling and only one person has looked at it and they didn’t even give it a chance. Because in spite of a Molly Maid cleaning, not to mention my hours of pre-move cleaning with bloodsweatandtears, it’s just closed up and unoccupied and stale. With traces of dog. This all reinforces my theories about how human beings never really grow out of the 2-year-old stage that features fits and tantrums over lack of control. We just manifest it in a range of ways over the course of our lifetimes that are as varied as our bodies and souls.

But anyway. Let’s move on. I’m so tired! But not necessarily in a bad way; I just lost a lot of sleep on Friday evening as was up chatting with bestie-friend J til nearly midnight. Loveliness! I do like living closer. Oh and allegedly I’ll be heading off to check out the Methodists in a mere 20 minutes. We’ll see. And then questing for Podunk Sushi? Again, we’ll see. It would require some things like hair brushing and changing out of one’s PJs. Which let’s be honest is questionable at best.

happy sunday -

pen