Busy Life, No Room for Writing

Not to say I’m not writing. Really I’m just not putting anything down on paper. There’s a couple of cool stories brewing in my brain, some already half-written down stuff that’s brewing to a nice finish. I just haven’t had the energy or the motivation to sit down and get it all out. Partly because with the MOVE just last week, I still have a ton of unpacking to do. (I’ll post pictures of the garage filled with boxes later today.)

I’ll be honest. One of the percolating stories is about a gas stove. I am terrified of my new (as in new to me) gas stove. Cooking on it is a heart attack. I’ve made 3 meals on it. Sausage and cheesy shells (1 pot), tacos (1 pan and 1 baking pan), and breakfast for dinner (2 pans and 1 baking pan). We invited a friend and her daughter over for dinner this weekend. I’m making chicken fried steak. (Also known as country fried steak to the Yanks, but down here it’s chicken fried.) To make said meal requires 1 pan, 2 pots and a baking pan for biscuits.

I have until Sunday to conquer my fear or die a slow, embarrassing death.

Thankfully, our new landlords are cool people and when I expressed fear and concern over the gas stove when we looked at the house, they told us they’d be more than happy to try and find an electric stove if I can’t handle the gas.

So there is that. If I completely freak out, I can be saved. But I’m not willing to give up yet. If I can learn to drive a stick, I can learn to cook on a gas stove. At least I don’t have to light the thing every time I use it. That really freaked me out.

See, this all stems from a bad experience when I was about 6 or 7, at the oldest. I was visiting my aunt for a couple weeks in the summer and she had an old timey gas stove–the kind you need to light each time.

Well, my Aunt was always big about encouraging us to try new things–especially when it came to house wife type stuff, so she asked me one night to light the burner. I had the match lit, came close to the burner and it went right up in flames like it’s supposed to. But it still scared the shit out of me.

I guess that doesn’t really qualify as a bad experience then, huh? It’s more like a lingering childhood superstition. Fire + gas stove = BAD.

***

Aside from the inspiration in the kitchen, I’ve had to make some sacrifices in the new house. The bedrooms aren’t as big as the trailer’s bedrooms, so there’s no room in our new bedroom for either desk. The computer desk is now in the living room–which is fine–except that it doesn’t really afford me the privacy to write in peace like my old desk did. Much less find tranquility and peace by playing with my office supplies. (Office supplies are like catnip to me.)

Besides all that, I’ve grown used to having a space of my own. It’s something I need. Just a little corner of my own to go to when I need to reclaim a bit of the old me.

But, as there always is, the garage is pretty big. It might be one car, but we’ve never had a garage before. The hubby already set up his drums. (The very first thing he unpacked–and about the only thing so far he’s unpacked.) There is a little rectangular nook in the back of the garage, just a hide away for the washer and dryer. But since we have neither (and don’t plan to get either any time soon), it would just go to waste. So I’m going to do a minor bit of remodeling (as in hang some nice fabric on the wall to make it pretty, throw in a rug or some left over carpet on the floor, and find a cheap set of decent curtains that I can put up to cover up the fact that I use the space set aside for the washer/dryer as a desk area) and take that spot for my own. I’ll have to share the garage with the drums, but that’s okay.

My sister in law had to buy a new laptop since hers went kaput, but it’s a kaput the hubby thinks he can fix, so the sister in law offered to give it to him/us so that I can use it for my own nefarious writing purposes. (Insert big smile here.) So I will soon enough have a mobile computer of my own again.

***

None of this will come about until I finish unpacking. *sigh* I’m down a bookshelf–one broke on the moving truck, but I figured it would. It had reached the end of it’s life. The nicer of the bookshelves is in my bedroom operating as a vcr/dvd player, satellite receiver, night stand right now. But it will fill most of the way up with books again later today. The other is in the living room. I’m torn now with how to arrange the books, where to put my Top Shelf picks, etc.

Either way, I have to either store away a bunch of books, give them away, or trade them for credit at the used book store. I mean, I have room for storage now… but I hate keeping books in a box. They deserve better, they really do.

It doesn’t help that I’ve made 2 trips to the used book store recently and now have about 10 more books to find places for, does it?

***

Keep an eye out for pictures later today. I am not even going to try to find a funny cat picture right now. Besides, y’all don’t much seem to care about funny lolcat pictures anyway.

Wish I had something funny to say though. I prefer to end on some kind of humorous note… I’ve got nothing. Alas, that’s how it is at 7 am.

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