Slowly but surely the new house is coming together. More importantly, my study/office is taking shape. I still need storage units of some sort (for paper type stuff and for yarn type stuff) and a worktable. But I bought a proper chair for typing. Now my butt won’t fall asleep after sitting for more than seventeen minutes. No, I haven’t timed the interval before butt sleep but I think seventeen minutes is a good guess.
I’d hoped to get an all-mesh chair – seat and back – but the only one of that style at the store had a headrest that just got in my way. It could be removed by taking out a few screws, but why pay for something I wasn’t going to use? So the chair I bought has a cloth seat and a mesh back. Quite comfy and with good lumbar support.
For the second addition to my study, let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago – about seven months back – I had a writing cave on the main floor of our former house. But the printer was located in Hubby’s office on the lower floor, connected to my computer via wi-fi. However, sometimes my computer didn’t play nicely with the printer. I’d click “print”, trot downstairs, only to find – nothing.
So, up I’d go, try to figure out what happened (a futile proposition given my Luddite tendencies), press “print” again, and again trot downstairs only to find – you got it – nothing.
So, up I’d go, grab my laptop and take it to the printer, swearing quite colourfully along the way, and finally get the darn thing to print.
Frustrating to say the least.
Well, new house = new rules. I got my own printer right next to my desk (a treasured heirloom) so I need only spin my chair a hair and there it is.
I’m approaching “the end” of the third book, Love & Redemption, in my historical series. Which means it’ll soon be time to print the manuscript for the final edit before sending to my publisher. (I use “final” in the broadest of senses. Final for that week. Final for the time being. Final only until the next round.). I always find typos in the printed manuscript that snuck by me on the screen. And if I need to do a more rigorous edit, I do a better job working with pen and paper. So much more satisfying to slash with a pen than to hit the delete key a few times.
Should you ever have the need to borrow a couple cats for mouse control, don’t bother asking for mine. Talk about useless.
A great chase went on in the great room Friday night. To no avail. I searched high and low Saturday morning and couldn’t find a mouse carcass. The cats had let it get away. (I had awakened after something fell over with a crash, and I had definitely heard the squeak of a mouse. So I knew there was a mouse in the house.) Saturday night was a repeat.
Sunday morning we saw the wee beastie scamper under the kitchen stove. Of course. Why scamper under something that could easily be moved? I removed the drawer from under the oven to give the cats a sporting chance. The mouse came out several times and sashayed around. Had it been carrying a walking stick it would have twirled said walking stick.
Then the mouse hid behind the grandfather clock. Another item of furniture not easily or safely moved. You might suspect the mouse knew what he/she was doing.
The mouse then scampered into my study and finally – FINALLY – hid behind an easily moved small cupboard. Child-sized, actually. Built by my dad and tole-painted by my Auntie M, it was designed to hold CDs. I’m not sure what I’ll store in there.
Anyway, back to the Great Chase, i.e., the Mouse Hunt, i.e., Now I’ve Got the Bugger. With Mogget standing by (Bruno had tired of the game) I slid one end of the cupboard from the wall just far enough to plop a plastic storage container on top of the rodent. I then slid a pad of paper under the trap and carried the mouse out to the great wilderness that is our yard. I let him/her go next to a stack of lumber should he/she wish to take shelter.
I like to think the wee beastie will choose to remain out of doors, safe from the ferocious predator inside, by which I mean me. The cats are useless.
Here’s a picture of the breed of mouse in question – deer mouse. I didn’t have time to snap a pic of the actual creature. I’ve got to say, it was awfully cute!
P.S. My newsletter sign-up has been revamped. Hop on over to subscribe and receive a free copy of Whole Lotta Love.
My apologies for seemingly falling off the face of the earth. Surprisingly enough, moving into a new house three days before Christmas, AND hosting Christmas dinner leaves little time for extras like writing blog posts, or sleeping.
To add more excitement, a ripping windstorm roared through on the 25th and we lost power – as I was peeling the potatoes. Thank goodness for a propane range and a propane “wood stove”. We were cosy, well fed, and we opened gifts by the light of the camping lantern. The latter added to the cosy feel, in my opinion.
A week and a few days later we experienced another windstorm. Boy oh boy, the trees were dancing! We didn’t lose power, amazingly, but our kayaks and the 17’ freight canoe were shuttled around the yard as if they were made of paper. No damage, thank goodness. We left the canoe where it landed, safely tucked amongst the trees. <grin> Dare I say we’re over the worst? Probably not, there’s lots more winter to come.
As far as the move goes, I think we are over the worst. Ninety percent of the boxes have been unpacked and we’ve lugged over 80 kg of cardboard and packing paper to the recycling depot. We are getting settled in our new nest and starting to feel “at home”.
Here’s a snapshot of the view from the dining room.
The water you can see through the trees is pale because it’s covered in ice. Yes, the ocean freezes when the temperature falls to minus 15 degrees Celsius. Brrr!
And here’s Bruno checking out his new stomping grounds.
P.S. Today is Bubble Bath Day, so go fill the tub with bubbles! And don’t forget your rubber duckie!
‘Tis the season… to meet the movers at the storage unit—watch them put all our worldly possessions into the trucks—hold our collective breath whilst the grandfather clock makes the journey—watch the movers empty the trucks into the new house—direct them where to put all the stuff—again hold our breath whilst the clock is situated—face the piles of boxes and wonder where to put all the stuff—fa la la!
Phew, just writing that made me tired and close to tears of exhaustion.
Believe it or not, we’re hosting Christmas dinner. You may be all agog wondering why we’d do something so insane. Well, I’ll tell you. Both of us want to hibernate. After the past six months of not having a permanent book on which to hand our hats we don’t want to budge. Not even an inch. For a few months at least. So we’ll hole up in our new nest and let people come to us. The kitties will be happy to not have their humans disappear for at least one day a week, too.
We’ll celebrate Festivus for the Rest of Us tomorrow by searching for the dishes, unearthing the flatware, and unpacking the pots and pans.
What are you up to this weekend? A mad scramble? Or a relaxing few days with a hot beverage and a good book? My, doesn’t that sound delightful?