Oh, the sky had mercy. It's been raining off and on for the past couple of days. I have no words to describe my relief and my joy. Amazingly, most people around here are conflicted: They don't like rain. I love rain. It could rain every day, as far as I'm concerned. (It doesn't, even though people think it does, here. But it really doesn't.) We are getting a new sofa tomorrow and I plan to sit on it with my windows open to the rain and knit for 7,000 hours, starting tomorrow. I can't wait.
Thaaaaaaaaaaank you, thank you for the quilt kit orders guys!!!!! Thank you! There are still quite a few of some colorways left in the shop, and a few king-sized kits in the more popular colorways (which are always the ones I think won't be the popular ones — go figure) that I will probably break into smaller kits when I catch my breath. I've just packed up the last seventeen orders today and I'm hoping we can stop at the post office to drop everything off on the way to ballet; if not, they will go tomorrow. Thank you ever so much for all of your orders and your emails and your kind words about these. I do hope you are pleased with them and I hope people send me pictures of what they make. I really want to see these made up.
So, no kidding, I've been cleaning and reorganizing pretty much nonstop since Amelia went back to school. Over the weekend I cleaned out the upstairs medicine cabinet in the bathroom and rewallpapered it. Then I went through every single piece of clothing in Amelia's room and got everything organized to either keep for next summer, save forever, or sell on eBay. It was a great feeling. The feeling is hard-earned, however; these things do not do themselves. I literally spent the whole weekend doing these things, which was fine because on Saturday it was so smoky again (before it rained) that we had to stay inside, and then on Sunday I just wanted to get it all done. I've hit the reorganizing plan hard this month. Some of these things, like the books and the linen closet and the medicine cabinet, I've been wanting to do for five years. It's hard to put my finger on exactly why it's so hard to do these things when your kid is super little. They (these projects) just seem to take a concentrated amount of energy and a long-enough amount of uninterrupted time alone so that you can actually, like, think and make decisions. About even the smallest things, like Why did I spend money on this expensive BB creme when I hate putting things on my face? Why do I have fifty pillowcases that don't match? Why does my child insist on changing all of her clothes (and taking half of everything out of her dresser) every time she spills four drops of water on her sleeve? Just a few thoughts that run through your mind when you're experiencing your first, uninterrupted fit of binge-cleaning in five years.
We are getting a new sofa tomorrow. The old one is so uncomfortable. And this, after I was just crowing about Ikea! Oh well. It's been a long-time coming in our minds, but perhaps not in reality, because it's only five years old. But we've lived hard on that thing. The new one is less scratchy, smaller, and, hopefully, more firm — the old one is literally like sitting on one of those puff-ball mushrooms. Or an air mattress with a slow leak. Bah. No. Just — no. My back. Too soft. Andy and I both got so fed up with it at exactly the same time, and we are giving it to a family down the street. They're excited. They're probably younger and less annoyed about anything that interferes with their own established levels of personal comfort. Well, this is our twentieth anniversary present to each other, just a bit belated and quite a splurge for us. I'll take some pictures after I get the room back together. Uncovering the spot where the old sofa was has been illuminating. Andy, on hands and knees: "Look, there's Indian corn." Also, many knitting needles, cable needles, yarn needles, embroidery needles, and countless mini-legos and countless ponytail holders.
Next week I'm pretty sure I will have burned through most of my motivation for cleaning. It's like a fever. It will run its course. Then I plan to start several other projects. Here they are, in random order: Amelia's birthday dress. Many pillows for new sofa. Quilt to raffle off for Hurricane Harvey and now Hurricane Irma relief. School clothes for Amelia. Several flannel nightgowns for Amelia. New curtain to cover up built-in bookshelf in living room. I don't know what else. Halloween costume: She told us this morning that she wants to be a "pink and purple kitty, with a saddle and a rider on its back." Oh my.
A few people asked about the lavender and cedar chips and stuff I mentioned that I got for my linen closet. Now I'm out of time to look them up and I have to go but I will take a picture and show you and link to them next time.
P.S.: That's Clover Meadow's face when she is listening to the dustbuster. The dog who jumps out of her skin when she hears hummingbirds or airplanes is singularly unperturbed by vacuums, the dustbuster, and Roomba, who I have seen actually hit her in the rump before she will move herself out of its way. GOOF. BALL. FAMILY.