Next: move the kitchen equipment to the zombie pantry downstairs and fuss at the Spouse to decide whether he wants to fix that broken recliner in there or let Hannah Home have it.

I have made progress this week! Now for another handful of Advil and the Saturday errands. Maybe by now the farmer’s market is getting something green and local; I’m really craving something fresh.

The first, and most important: the previous owners obviously had cats, as evidenced by the intractable smell of kitty litter box in one of the three rooms with carpeting. And they definitely had a small dog with some incontinence issues, as evidenced first by the calendars with tiny yippy dog pin-ups, and by the innumerable tiny dog pee stains which show under my black light.

This explains why no amounts of vinegar and enzymatic cleaner have solved what I thought was the houndie grrrl’s still-getting house-broken issues – because it was never her at all.

I would love to know what they did to eliminate the odor when the house was on the market, but no matter. I am simply going to have to buck up and replace the carpeting.

So, replacing the carpeting in 3 rooms has become a priority.

The second: I have to get an electrician in here to replace several outlets, including the one that connects the sump pump for the french drains. I haven’t made this the number one priority because no one around here will give me the name of a good electrician, and I can think of nothing worse than hiring a lousy electrician – except maybe an incompetent plumber.

Which brings me to …

The third priority: I have got to get a vent in the bathroom. I simply must do this, as I am totally mildew phobic.

The fourth: Not absolutely crucial, but there is a gigantic built-in air conditioning unit in the future sunroom that is ancient. It’s gotta go. It’s an energy hog and ugly to boot.

The french doors have dropped to priority five, next to installing a microhood, refacing kitchen cabinets and replacing the hideous electric stove.

But not until I install tile on the kitchen floor that matches the tile in the entry way leading into the kitchen, which is one of the many strange, yet understandable, things the previous owners did. Not sure why they thought a two and a half – three foot foot wide strip of ceramic tile leading to the front door to the kitchen was so necessary, but it’ll work if I get the same tile in the kitchen.

Immediate Plans
Finish hemming deconstructed old silk dupioni curtains and hang in living room with bamboo barkcloth
Prime inner hallway and begin painting
Turn off water valve to sheds outside because temperatures are supposed to plummet from 68 degrees today to some absurd and unheard of subarctic temperature

Long-term Plans
Hire electrician to fix outdoor socket (so sump pump will work again) and upgrade old interior sockets (so I can finally plug in modern appliances, like televisions and interior lights)
Prime kitchen, but no paint yet
Reconstruct sunroom, meaning pull up carpeting, prime and paint, hang shades that aren’t pink blinds, decide on flooring, move exterior door from laundry room to replace luann exterior door
Temporarily move bedroom from where it is now to sunroom
Install french doors in place of extremely dangerous sliding glass doors

10:45 am: In celebration of my game plans, I make a new pot of coffee and investigate the stats on the simply gorgeous little bungalow for sale down the block.

11:05 am: Well, no wonder they haven’t sold that little beauty! Despite being a lovely and well-kept little thing from 1930, they have more gruesome faux wood paneling inside than my lovely little place! Paint is our friend, and someone needs to tell them!

11:09 am: I spend several minutes patting myself on the back for purchasing a place for thousands of dollars less than the place down the street, and my home has a metal roof, tornado shelter, new windows, new floors, new plumbing, and a host of other improvements that that place doesn’t have.

11:14 am: I begin priming the inner hallway.

Lion’s ears, parsley and strawberries.

Today’s casual reading: The Psychology of Idealistic Eating and Delusions of Parasitosis

Today’s primary activities: Buying envelopes and instruments to hem the newly deconstructed and washed silk dupioni curtains, repotting ginger plants, and finishing painting the alcove-ish area of the hallway.

8:10 am: Today is the day I finish painting the outer end of the hallway. I must finish it today because I go back to work on Monday and I have too much to do over Christmas break to be running around painting the outer part of the hallway! I decide to make curried eggs for breakfast.

8:15 am: I drizzle olive oil into the pan, press some garlic into it, then sprinkle cumin, turmeric and homemade garam masala over it all. I race to the refrigerator for eggs from chickens I don’t know personally, but whose owners I trust.

8:18 am: The waiting game begins. I decide to blog until I can smell the garlic and spices in the other room, a sure sign it’s time to put the eggs in.

8:20 am: I smell the garlic and spices. I leap from my chair, throw the eggs into the pan, then stir ever so gently so as not to disrupt the scientifical processes taking place before my very eyes.

8:30 am: Ernest and Calliope let me know in no uncertain terms the degree to which I have ruined their day by not removing the cover to their cage at the break of daylight.

8:40 am: Armed with my first cup of coffee of the day, I sit on the sofa with the large lab trying to decode his desperate message. Has a squirrel stolen his carrot already? Is his food bowl only half full? Does he want to play Doggie Burrito, wherein I wrap everything but the tip of his nose in a bankie and coo “Babushka! Babushka!” into his ear while he snorts?

9:04 am: I must, simply must, pull myself out of this fog! I race back into the kitchen for more coffee.

9:20 am: Shit! I’m supposed to go out today to buy Panacur and turmeric. I spend several minutes observing the Houndie Grrrl to determine if she really *is* wormy, or if she had simply developed an intense, yet temporary, distrust of her hind end which led to her glaring at it suspiciously for hours on end yesterday. I decide the latter is the case.

9:23 am: It being the case that I am not to set foot outside of the house today unless temperatures warm to at *least* 55 degrees, I decide not to make the most sumptious potato recipe on earth (sans tomatoes, of course, this being winter and all) and, instead, opt for finally making those grits I’ve been threatening for a week or two now, and grilling some sweet pots, Hatch chiles and sweet onion, then slathering with a peanut sauce.

9:29 am: But I need breakfast first. I race into the kitchen for some yogurt laced with olive oil, black pepper, cumin and dill, and suddenly remember I’m out of garlic. The horror!

8:08 am: I pour myself a large cup of coffee. I race back to my bedroom with the coffee and jump back into bed and under the covers.

8:35 am: Shocking realization: the reason Ernest and Calliope are so attentive when I approach their cage is because they’re plotting their escape.

8:36 am: I rush into the bathroom, grab all the old paintbrushes, toss them into the trash, then jump back into bed and under the covers.

7:32 am: The dogs are so alarmed by this sudden activity that they start rioting on the sofa.

7:49 am: I spend 10 minutes looking for my glasses before discovering them on top of my head.

8:11 am: I reconsider racing to get more coffee after reading a virtual tome of doom and declarations of special gifts and decoded conspiracy theories by someone who appears to be a manic-depressive, such tome posted on a blog which shall remain unnamed to protect the innocent although the blog’s initials do contain the letters M and L and W and, no, the manic is not who you might think it is.

8:13 am: I remember I am supposed to be painting the hallway.

8:22 am: I decide on breakfast: three tiny Aracauna eggs from chickens I’ve been formally introduced to, but am not close to, lightly scrambled in olive oil and cumin, and served with slices of perfectly ripe avocado.

7:14 am: In anticipation of an exciting and productive day of home maintenance projects, I race to the kitchen, grab some Greek yogurt and mix in olive oil, 2 cloves garlic, a touch of cumin, a bit more dill and the least amount of salt possible.

7:25 am: I suddenly remember one of my projects is investigating whether I can purchase small room dehumidifiers to make up for the pitiful absence of fans in my bathrooms. It is crucial — crucial! — I battle mold and mildew!

9:46 am: Having survived one bout of nausea, one episode of Don’t Sweat It (which demonstrated how to restore the majesty of a Craftsman home) and 214 customer reviews of a dehumidifier, I am prepared to rush outside into the cold and grab the bottle of Clorox from the trunk. I put on my hoody, socks and tennis shoes, and jump back into bed under the covers.

9:30 pm: Panic! I want grits for lunch, but I’m out of milk to cook them!

8:14 am: Despite it all, I decide to buck up and soldier on.

8:16 am: But I must get a chair! The dogs have completely taken over the sofa, and my sitting on the kitchen step stool all the time is making my back go out!

8:17 am: I remind myself that, if I’m really that desperate for a chair, I can bring the lawn furniture in.

8:22 am: I must plan out the computer’s move from The Freezing Room to The Cozy Room. I begin with a price comparison search on sump pumps.