Let the bells ring and the trumpets blare! Kitpu Estates is officially all powered up. Yippee, yee-haw. So we have gone from 100 to 200 amps at the shack. This means that the worst of everything is behind us in terms of renovations. It also means that I am now back at the homestead and being all Dora Domestica once again. Well perhaps not all that Domestica, but getting there.
This of course does not mean that we have completed renos, according to the local population we need to replace our front deck. I'm not exactly sure why everyone thinks this? Maybe it is because the hand rails are starting to fall off without warning, or that holes have been spontaneously forming through the floor boards, or that some of the deck supports are no longer actually touching the ground, or that when the son-in-law tried walking up the steps one of his feet kinda went through the tread. Wusses, it's not like the deck has actually collapsed under us...yet. (I am hoping that it will manage to stay upright until next summer. It may be an idea to try and keep the snow from building up on the thing this winter.) Then the Wookie Cave needs new windows, and new siding, and a floor, and walls, and insulation, and a door, and the stove hooked up, but again, that is a project for next summer. And of course the basement needs to be gutted and redone from the ground up. Oh and did I mention that the en suite and walk in closet are still a construction zone? Oh and we have to finish insulating the attic. Other than that everything is done.
I signed up for a writing class today, it is a personal writing class, or a class designed to teach writing about our personal lives and experiences. It should be interesting seeing as I typically don't write about myself, usually when I write it is action adventure kind of stuff. Well unless you count this blog which isn't really writing, or is it? It actually doesn't feel writerly, it feels more like blathering on about random thoughts which pop uninvited into my brain while it is being distracted by chocolate, or breathing. As far as I can tell the class consists of the usual suspects, shy person who doesn't say anything, seriously nerdy person who never shuts the hell up, major chip on shoulder person, too cool for the class person, thinks their shit is far superior to every other human being in the world person, passive aggressive person, person who needs constant praise otherwise they may run to the bathroom and cry, and me the president of the Old Shoes and Tea Society and person who tends to be amused by the mix of personalities. So the first day was okay, but I'm thinking it is going to suck ass at critiquing because everyone seems to be trying to be oh so nice. (People critiquing is not an attack on the writer, when done correctly and honestly it is immensely helpful to the process. Too nice is useless, too critical is useless...but I digress.) Maybe once the course is over this blog will become a brilliant torrent of lyrical prose capturing the charm and eloquent style that could potentially be lurking beneath the turbid waters of my mind. But I wouldn't count on it, more than likely I will continue to spew out the swill that you are reading now.
Well I must go to bed because the kid will be coming to pick me up in the morning and whisk me off to another province where I will be touring the charming house of Green Gables so I can be tickled pink by the Haunted Wood, the Shining Waters, and the broken slate used on Gilbert's head.
No comments:
Post a Comment