In a act that can only be described as PMS induced insanity, I spent Saturday night disassembling a daybed with the assistance of two toddlers while James was off internet gaming in Thousand Oaks. Sophie was gratefully locked into her highchair, gnawing off a Whole Foods Fruit Bar like a rat on a rope. Dominic took it upon himself to unearth vintage treasures under Papa’s desk, one of them being a dusty Atari gameset from 1981. After convincing him that the quicker he turned the nobs the faster I would finish unscrewing the daybed, I managed to get the entire set disassembled in under an hour. Like my dream of publishing for a living, these screws held tight, regardless of logic, pushing and unrequited effort. I finally held one side of the screw with a clench type doo-hicky and turned the other side of it with a "flat head" driver (so proud of myself for knowing the name of it). As I finally fell into the groove, the little screws falling like American Idol contestants, I felt very technical and clever. If it were a television show, my yoga-like manuevers, coupled with a few choice expletives, would best be described as This Old House meets I Love Lucy... better titled This Old House Frau.
A normally boring task was rendered entertaining as Nick gave the commentary. "Oh, Mommy, I feel sad that the bed is broken. Nick feel better when it's put back together by Papa." I asked him, "Don’t you think Mommy can put it back together?" And he’d reply, "Mommy, that's silly! Here you go!" At which point he handed me the "Age of Mythology Collectors" disk, found next to the collectors edition of "Star Trek: Judgment Rites."
When I finally had all the screws safely stored in my desk (for Sophie to later find and swallow, stay tuned), Nick took to jumping up and down on the mattress in the hallway. When he tired of that, he actually lassoed an end of it and helped me move it behind the living room couch, accompanying his heaving and pushing with a feigned, exhausted "Oy!"... "Ooooooooooy!". As soon as another item was moved, he added to his repertoire, "Gracias Mommy for helping me move this. Graaaaaacias!"
As is always the case with any home improvement project, one little fix-it caused my entire house to look like the "Hey, Let's Make a Bunch of Crap" bomb exploded. To move the bed, I had to move James' old server near the door. Which got James thinking the next day, "Hey, I really need a new computer". Which got him thinking, "I'll just use the office closet to store the servers". Which led to me taking every box of To Be Sold Ebay items, birthday and holiday gifts, wrapping paper, craft items out of the closet. This included displacing a very content cochroach named Cochran who had been living fat an happy on my upper closet shelf since last November. I finally relocated him to a friendly pile of wood in the backyard.
All closet crapoloa, sans Cochran, is now beautifully displayed in various piles where the bed used to be. My new little mountains de ca ca led me to pondering,"I might as well get rid of the remnants of my ill-fated baby product in the garage and stick them in the Ebay bonfire pile to make room for more failed ventures. Then James cleaned out his desk, and put his"To Be Ebayed Stuff" on my desk.
What we have now, my friends, is an office that looks like a U-Haul storage unit.
And a living room that's housing a daybed.
Which is going to go upstairs where Sophie's crib is for use when she's older.
But before we put the daybed upstairs, we need to break down her crib and store it in the garage. But where in the garage?
Ah, I know... on my work bench, where my ill-fated business used to be!
Of course, during all this chaos, my good friend Topanga T stopped by my house with her brother, Turbo Jo, for an unannounced tour. And based on my post earlier, I swallowed my pride about having things in disarray and showed them around anyway, welcoming them the best I could admist the chaos.
As I outwardly pointed out the dining room, explaining that the Pack N Play is only there because Sophie has no crib, or daybed, I inwardly promised myself that with my new writing gig I would put aside 100/month toward Ikea shelves with nice doors that hid ebay stuff. And smoothe surfaces to display books and pretty coffee cups. There would be lovely nooks for scripts I've written... cute baskets for crisp white paper... inviting cubbies for fabulous family photos... cork boards for WGA invitations and social events. White boards to remind me about my meeting with Oprah. And Elmo. I made a small agreement with myself that my new job wasn't the L.A. Times, but it was something that would get me somewhere.
It was mine.
Whoops, no it's not.
As it turns out, I showed up for work today only to be given the third excuse this week. “Everyone has the flu… maybe you can come back another day?”
Right then and there, I bit my tongue from telling them to “Fxxx off you flaky P.O.S. third rate garage publication” and calmly told them that, for what they’re paying me (or not paying me, as I had of yet not worked a moment), it clearly wasn't worth the time it takes to organize a babysitter and pay her half my salary. I stoicly announced that I would not be their assistant anymore. It was at this moment that the managers fat, pony tailed salesman husband defended that they had just had a string of bad luck - they weren't being flaky! As I looked around at their many piles of mail unopened (no doubt bills and unpaid writers' checks) I reminded them that the day of my interview, they forgot about it and then showed me around in their socks. The first day of work last week they had to cancel, after I arrived, due to a sick computer. And now today they are under the weather. I joked that maybe they caught their cold from the computer, but they didn’t smile.
And neither did I. Why?
Because now I’m home with nothing to show for my time. I’m typing in a U-Haul unit. My phones are busted. My article for Marrit isn’t done. My pilot isn’t done. I have no place to put things to get my life looking more organized and no money at this moment to buy something to do it.
Listen up, people. I am going to ebay every goddamn baby shoe, lamp shade, baby box and Age of Geek Mythology box in my house. If Nick and Sophie get in my way, I will Ebay them, too. With this money, I am buying some new shelves for my office. I am going to repaint. I am starting over.
Like my former bosses fat husband, I swear I am not a flake.
I swear that this writing is going to happen.
But right now, the bad luck fairy is having a fun ride on the “Hey, Let’s Make a Lot of Crap” bomb.
If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
And there’s no room for tears in this office. Later, when I have my new organizational units, I’ll get a lovely Pottery Barn Memory Frame for my sorrows. For now, I’ve got to go. I have pictures to take of my Ebay windfall.
If only I could find my camera.
Maybe it's with my sanity.
If you find it, please email.