Merry Christmas

I hope you all are having a very Merry Christmas.

This Christmas, I have new story about my life in Crazy Town.  If you're on FB, you read the brief story and know how it ends.

This morning I got up, chatted with my daughter on FB and knitted on my mother's socks.  Then I took the bus to the grocery store, which I thought would be a mad house.  The bus arrived on time.  It being a Saturday and Christmas Eve made that a bit strange.  Not many people at the grocery and I got into an empty cashier line. Or rather no line.  As I'm unloading my groceries, a man asks me if I would use his Fry's card so he could get the points to buy gas.  No big deal, I don't have a car, not going to use the points. So I swipe his store card instead of my own.  Wish him a Merry Christmas.

I had too much to carry back on the bus.  So, I called the Yellow Cab.  It's only a mile and a half cab ride, usually.  Queue the creepy music.  Things had been going too smoothly.  First call, I realize I had given the dispatch the wrong number to my cell.  So, I call them back to give them the right number.  They say, they have cab #1601 on it's way.  I make a mental note of the number.

Cab shows up.  I pull the grocery cart up to the back.  He just pops the trunk, but doesn't get out to help me put my groceries in the back.  I thought it a bit strange, but ok.  I check the number on the cab, #1601.  Put my stuff in the trunk and get into the car.  He asks me the address and takes off.

I look up at the meter and it was $4.50.  The flag drop is supposed to be $2.50.  I question this.  He said he started the fare when he popped the trunk.  That's not right.  The cab drivers have never done that to me.  I pull out my cell phone and call the company right there.

While I'm on the phone with the cab company, we get close to my address.  I tell him to slow down he's at my address.  He steps on the gas and floors it. He drives another two miles, with me in the back of cab on the   phone with dispatch.  "Your driver just flew by my house and didn't stop.  He's not even turning around to go back.  Oh my God, what is he doing trying to kidnap me?"

For all I knew he was going to take me to Mexico.  We were headed south.  It wasn't until I got back and in the apartment that I remembered that I had my tazer in my pocket the whole time.  Hell, I could have finally tested the thing.  (Just joking.  I would have if he had kept going.)

After two miles, he finally turns around and heads back.  Dispatch says, "I don't know what the hell he's doing.  Look it's only a mile or two from the grocery store to your home, don't pay him more than $6.00. He's obviously just driving around trying to run up the fare."

I only have a ten and one.  I call Duane to see if he has a five.  He almost drives by the place a second time.  Duane doesn't have a five but meets me in the parking lot.  I ask the driver if he has ones because there is no way I'm paying any more than $6.00 for that bit of BS.  He has the meter racked up to over $12.00.  He tells me to keep it and pops the trunk.

I'm so anxious to get away from that crazy cabbie, I just grab the bags that I see.  I didn't notice that the bag with the Jaegger gift box had slid to the back of the trunk.  I get in the house and go through the stuff.  Where's the Jaegger?  Damn, I must have left it in the trunk.

Duane tells me to call the cab company and report it.  They try to call him on the radio and he won't respond. They take my number and say they will call me back.  We wait over a half hour.  I call them back.  They say he's still not responding to the radio and they don't have his number to call him.  I tell them, we're calling the police.

I'm still shook up by the whole experience, so Duane calls and talks to the police.  We wait an hour.  I'm chatting with my daughter, trying to keep her spirits up, clean the litter box.  We are out of litter.  Duane is trying to put up the cat tree.  You know an ordinary evening here in crazy town.  We wonder aloud when the police will come.  I put my coat to head out to the CVS for cat litter.  Just as I step out the door, the lady officer is standing there.

I recant my story to her.  She tells me they have another officer headed to the cab driver's house to get my stuff.  She asks was he trying to steal my stuff.  I said, no, I don't think he knows it's back there.  She asked if he didn't understand English.  I said, "He knew enough English to say, "I dropped the flag when I popped the trunk and that is your fare."

Well, she goes out and talks on her radio.  Comes back in and asks me to wait to go to the CVS for a bit.  She's going back to her car and will wait to hear from her partner. Duane has me try to help him put the cat tree up.  My head is pounding.  (It's a cheap piece of you know what and is still lying in pieces in the middle of the floor.  Duane will nail the thing together tomorrow.)  I check outside every once in a while to make sure she is still in the parking lot.

Then the knock comes at the door.  She is standing there with a male officer holding my bag with Jaegger.  The male officer said the cabbie tried to tell him he's usually an airport cab and that is how they do things at the airport.  Both of the officers thought he was full of you know what.  They said I need to write a written complaint to the company.  Hope I don't run into anymore crazy cabbies in the future.

While I start to write this post, I step outside for a breath of um, fresh air for a minute.  I came back in, sat down and phone rang.  It was my friend that had taken me back and forth to the hospital and nursing home, takes us shopping every two weeks.  Last Sunday, I bought her a gift certificate for Grandmother's Spinning Wheel for a Christmas present.  She bought me a big ball of merino spinning fiber and hung the bag on my door knob outside. She must have saw me out there. She was in a rush, headed to Cali to see her father.

Regarding my daughter.  It breaks my heart knowing she's in that trailer in NY with no heat, no food.  She's getting sick.  She told me the CPS supervisor called her after I had talked to the supervisor, yesterday.  The supervisor told her she wished her the best of luck and that she would let the case worker know what was going on when she came back from vacation.  Can you believe that crap??  (Read yesterday's post if you haven't yet.)

I'm not saying there aren't any good social workers out there.  Lest someone flame me that they're sister-in-law is a social worker and goes out of the way to help people.  I'm sure there must be a few good ones somewhere.  It's just I've yet to meet one.  It would be kinda like spotting a unicorn.

Anyway, I have a plan.  It's a good plan.  Duane says it's a good plan.  I can't say what it is. We don't need the wrong people to get wind of the plan.  I will tell you once everyone is safe.


Finally, everyone's favorite World's Smallest Zeppelin Fan, Mr. Dammit Bunny Chewer (formerly of the Rochester Chewers).

"Merry Zepmas, everyone!"

When Is Weird Too Weird

As I mentioned in a previous post, I believe our normal would be weird any where else.  So the question is, when is weird, too weird for a Suntran bus driver?  I found out Tuesday morning.  It was a crisp 27F when I left for work.  As we know I knit on the bus commute to be productive and well, to ignore the weird.

I was roused from my knitting when I heard yelling outside the bus and the driver came to a screeching halt.  Outside, at the bus stop were three people wearing their bedding.  Yes, they were wearing their bedding.  Two men in their pajamas wrapped up in blankets and a woman in her nightgown wrapped up in a quilt.

The bus driver told them the bus was full to capacity, slammed the door and took off.  I looked around and there was maybe ten people on the bus.  I guess looking like your already for a long nap, is just too weird for a Suntran bus driver.

I should have read my horoscope before I left the house this morning.

Today's Horoscope

Lots of things aren't going as well as they might. You encounter obstacles wherever you look. Try to deal these apparently adverse conditions in a laid back manner and see them as a challenge. If something isn't going the way you planned it can still have positive outcomes and all the obstacles on the way just serve to make the journey more interesting.

This morning my bus was 45 minutes late.  When it was twenty minutes late, I called Suntran.  After being on hold for about 15 minutes, they tell me the bus ran out of gas.  How does that happen on the first run of the morning?  Aren't they supposed to check that before they leave the station?

Half way through my ride, a woman gets on the bus and starts cussing at the driver for being late.  As she stomps to the back of the bus, she yells, "She's lucky this isn't the southside.  Her ass would be grass for this."  Because you know, you can get there so much faster, if you beat the bus driver half to death.  Glad I ride through the milder barrio.

I arrived to work 30 minutes late.  The weekend scheduler fixed it for me.  They were giving pre-VGH yesterday for today, I booked to VGP (go home with pay early) for three o'clock.  It was so slow, and a Saturday (no admin wandering around) I pulled out my knitting to work on between calls.  At one point, I was able to complete a whole row on my snood and I call hadn't came through.  I checked my phone to make sure I was still connected.

Back to the scheduling desk.  I said, you know my day isn't going so well, with the whole run out gas first thing.  If you need people to leave earlier.  I'm willing to go say either at one or two.  It just needs to be at the top of the hour so I can walk to the bus stop.  I could be home getting a start on my holiday baking and fudge making.  By the way, do you like homemade fudge?

He said, I'm a fudge fiend.

Well, next Saturday, there will be a container of fudge for you.

Him:  As long as it's a Saturday, so the weekday people don't eat it all on me.

Me;  Yes, of course, it will be Saturday.

The younger guy:  What about me?

Me:  It will be a good size container and you two can share.  Consider it a thank you gift for past favors.  Not a bribe for future favors or anything.  Future favors however could make more thank you fudge to arrive in the future, though.  (chuckles)

At 1:30, I'm outside on lunch and the older guy comes out.

Him:  You still want to leave at two?

Me: Yes, I do.

Him:  Come bug me again when you get back from lunch.  I'll get you out of here.

Me:  Ok, thanks.

Him: Are you going to bring your own gas?

Me: I probably should stop by the Circle K to get a can and fill up with gas. Just to be safe.

Of course, my connecting bus home was over twenty minutes late.  I was tempted to call the station and ask if yet another bus ran out of gas.

Happy Saturday everyone.  It's my Friday.  Obviously, I have to make sure to make fudge on my two days off.

For Your Monday Amusement

I'm slowly climbing up the leg of my Tucson sock these past two evenings of knitting.  Or maybe it's Bootsie doing all the work.  Duane told me today while I was on lunch that Bootsie is pulling yarn out of my knitting bag.  He puts it back, leaves the room, comes back in to find yet something else laying in the middle of the room.

I'm adding increases in the center solid section on the back of the calf.  What I don't like about this pattern is that the curls around while I'm knitting.  It looks like I'm knitting on the back of the calf when I'm actually knitting the front portion.  I'll try to get a picture in the daylight either Thursday or Friday when I'm off.

Just eight more posts to NaBloPoMo.  I think I can consider at this point I've made it.  My second try I succeeded in 2008, though I have to say it was pretty hard.  I was home all the time watching my granddaughter 14 hours a day.  It was hard to think of things to post about.  Going out everyday, Tucson never fails to provide more amusement.

(This picture serves no real purpose other than something to look at)

This soul sucking, un-creative job has my mind just jumping with imagination once I'm unshackled from the phone.  I officially dislike working Sundays.  Not so much, the fact that it's Sunday, it's that I've officially dubbed it Stupid People Sunday.  I get some of the dumbest people calling on Sunday.

For your amusement, I will tell you about the worst part of my Sunday.  It's the bus ride home.  The past three weeks, it's been the same fat, obstreperous, jerk of a bus driver.  He glares at me when I ask for a transfer.  Then he waits til I put in my very last dime and heaves his beefy arm over to push the button.  He makes such a display of inconvenience in this act of moving his arm six inches to push a button.

(This one too.)

Even though it was 73F outside, today he had the heat running full blast.  Besides making the temperature extremely uncomfortable, the bus smelled like a combination of a U-Haul full of unwashed Mexicans and urine.  Halfway through the ride, a guy came on and sat down next to me reeking of cheap cologne.  You know the kind, the $2.00 cheap spritzers they buy by the caseload at the Family Dollar.  At that point, I actually considered getting off and walking the seven miles to my next stop. Just for some fresh air. Except, if I had, I would have missed the guy getting on at the next stop.

I have to say, most of the normal folk that get on the busses would be weirdos in other cities.  In two years, I've gotten used to them and barely raise an eyebrow anymore.  Full body tattoos, body piercings and enough metal to supply ammunition for a small war.

Riding the bus, I have my earbuds in with music blaring and only look up from my knitting long enough to figure how much longer til my stop.  The guy that got on was enough for me to look up from my knitting with rapt attention.  He looked normal enough with a t-shirt and shorts.  Too clean to be a homeless guy.  He carried three large duffle bags, two back packs, a brief case and what really caught my attention was what looked like a nylon rifle case.

He sat down and proceeded to arrange the overstuffed bags on the seats and floor around them.  Then he laid what looked like a rifle bag across his lap.  This really didn't seem too odd, as this is the conceal and carry state.  It's said, they issue side arms as you cross the boarder into the state.  What concerned me was when he began to unzip it and pull a wooden item that at seemed at first, to be shaped like a rifle.

Well crap, I thought, this guy sitting directly across from me is about to open fire on the bus.  There certainly wouldn't be any help coming from the bus driver who had a hard time moving his beefy arm six inches and push a button.

It ended up being a small square body mandolin.  It appeared to be homemade. The man then proceeded to pull out a tuner, tune it then carefully polish it. Relieved, I returned to my knitting.

Duane got to watch his Bears win on the TeeVee, this put him in a good mood.  He asked me to take a picture of him in his Bears gear next to the grill.  For those interested, he made barbequed buffalo ribs, barbequed pork roast, homemade German potato salad and applesauce.

This my Wednesday on a Monday.  It doesn't bode well.  The weatherman is calling for rain.

Try to have a good day, even if it is a Monday.

Going All Splodey In The Mental Asylum

I made it, six straight days of work and mostly walking four to five miles a day.  I'm so exhausted, I'm just a bundle of nerves. It's like being hyped up on the world's strongest expresso.  Luckily, my co-worker gave me a ride to the bus stop tonight since we were getting out at the same time.

Everything in the refrigerator is spoiled.  The freezer thankfully is working.  Duane contacted the manager twice and still hadn't heard anything by the time I got home at 7pm.  I marched over there and exploded about everything.  Including my flowers, and how it's crap, that I'm trying to make the place look better.  However, the trash he rents to destroys it.  He said he will send out notices to the tenants to leave the stuff on people's patios alone.

Duane still isn't feeling well, even with the new air condenser. I'm really getting concerned.  Anyway, I went up and got McDonald's for dinner.  I walked the quarter mile up and then back again so fast, he thought I ran.

We got rid of the meth addicts above us last month.  This month, I believe we have a herd of St. Bernards wearing Dutch wooden shoes, up there.  The constant stomping over head is beyond annoying.  Duane was saying he was about to go up there and say something.  Without saying a word, I jumped up and stomped to the upstairs apartment.  Being it was the first time, I was rather nice to the mother.  She said, it's their first time in an apartment and she'd been trying to tell the children.

When I walked back to my apartment, I noticed a child's face peering out from between the blinds, looking down at me.  I gave him my "you better cut the crap" glare.  The one my daughter will tell you can put the fear of me, in people.

I walked back in the door, looked at Duane and said, "Is there anyone else you would like to sic me on, while I'm still up?"

"Damn woman, your like a guided missile tonight."

"I'm so stressed, I just want to go all splodey on someone.  Point me in the direction of someone you don't like."

Really blurry action shot.

That's when I noticed Ms. Bootsie Bitey, formerly of the Scottsville Biteys, stretched across the back of my rocking chair with her "this sucks" expression on.  (Please note, I realized I should have said, formerly of Rochester, Scottsville and Syracuse since we  moved to Tucson. Forgive me, I'm just a bit tired.)

"What do you say, Ms. Bootsie Bitey, formerly of the Scottsville Biteys, if you and me go out and go all splodey on someone.  I'll even let you use the tazer."

D: "Wow, that's quite an honor Bootsie.  Mom's going to let you use the tazer."

"Well, yeah.  Imagine the guy we encounter when he talks to the cops.  'You won't believe this officer.  It was a little lady, with long grey hair, walking her cat.  All of sudden, the cat pulled out a tazer and tazed me."

D: "Officer,  it was Pink!  Plus, the cat pulled the tazer out of her butt. Not only was I tazed by a cat, but I have cat butt all over me."

It's especially funny when you think about the drunk thugs we have wandering the neighborhood late at night.

Mom wears this expression too.

I have the next two days off and a ton of stuff to do, so it's not like I'm going to get to rest or anything like that.  The saving grace is that I won't have to answer 350 calls a day.  Imagine saying, "This is pharmacy technician Denise. How may I help you?"  or some variation of one of the four different questions I have to use depending on what the computer tells me that the call is about, 350 times in an 8 hour period.  Sometimes, I get so over-stimulated my brain farts, then my tongue trips over itself and I say a combination of all four questions at once. Which makes absolutely no sense.  About a third of those calls are angry people screaming at me.

I just noticed that Ms. Bootsie has put on her cat prowling suit.  It's time to go.  We'll let you know of our exploits when we get back.  If there is someone you don't like, send them my way.  Ask them if they're feeling lucky.

Happy Thursday everyone.

I'm So Over It

Thanks to all you who stopped by and commiserated with me over my flowers.  My motto today is, "I'm so over it."  Today was better because it was only partly cloudy.  Work was tiring.  My stats showed I had taken 310 calls by 45 minutes before I left.  I will get my actual stats tomorrow.  The cranky customers that wanted to argue with me.  "I'm so over it."

I didn't sleep well last night, then my cat Bright Eyes woke me up holding road races on the bed, 15 minutes before the alarm was to go off. Over it.

Came home and Duane was asleep, because he's still not sleeping at night.  Not sleeping well during the day either.  I had to make my own coffee.  Over it.

That's the view I saw of the mountains to the north when I left work tonight at 5:15.  Within ten minutes it's getting dark on my walk.

Simply breath taking the short few minutes it lasted.

I don't know if it was the kids who took my flowers.  It's all circumstantial evidence.  No sense in saying anything to anyone anyway.  If they cared, it wouldn't have happened in the first place.  It's why Cookie and I are comrades in hating people.  Umm, still not over it.  If I ever catch someone messing with my plants, I'm going to go all Rochester on them.  (You would understand if you're from Rochester, NY or personally know someone from Rochester.)

I made it through my second Wednesday.  I'm over it.  Two more days to go then I get two days to be equally as busy at home.  Over it.

Having pot pie for dinner, then I think I work a little on the granny ripple afghan.  Put the damn cats in straight jackets and hope for a good nights sleep.

Happy Thursday, I mean Tuesday everyone.  Yeah, I forget what day of the week it's supposed to be.  I'm so over it.

Cookie Made My Day

This is the first Saturday that I've worked on the floor since training.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  Friday is viagra Friday, Sunday is birth control Sunday.  I'm dubbing Saturday, Sucky People Saturday. But, more on that later.

Last night, when I planned out my morning bus commute, I "mislooked" at the schedule for my second bus.  I looked at the weekday schedule instead of the Saturday schedule and ended up sitting at a cold bus stop on a dreary cloudy morning for over thirty minutes.  That's when I realized I looked at the wrong day and cursed myself for the fact that I could have slept an extra half hour.

Cookie made my day when I came home tonight.  She posted about the scarf she made with my handspun yarn she won from me last year. She really did a wonderful job.  I so rarely ever get to see what people have made with yarn and fiber that I've either given away or sold.

Which reminds me.  I found the yarn that I owe a couple of friends from a contest the weekend the Duane first became ill.  They understand the long delay, due to circumstances.  This next two days off I need to make my way to the post office and mail off a bunch of packages.  Outfits for my granddaughters, for one thing, before they outgrow them.

Slow progress continues on my sweater.  Just a couple more rows and I start on the waist shaping.  I love the color of the bfl/silk.  It sort of reminds of the camel hair coat I had in the late 80's.  I'm dubbing this the Faux Camel Jacket.

Sucky people suck on Saturday, especially when I'm accused of stealing from elderly ladies.  A woman called because she ordered her mother's "I can't eat cake" pills when her mother needed her "Help me get up" pills.  She didn't realize this until she got back with the medicine and went through her mother's 5 gallon ziplock baggie of pill bottles and saw she had several bottles of "I can't eat cake" but was all out of "Help me get up."  She paid the cash price for the pills and wanted us to return the wrong the ones and give her the right ones.

She accused me of stealing from elderly ladies when I said we can't take medication back once it's left the store. I told her it was federal law, and she called me a stupid, lying, thief.  Wow!  Really? The tirade of verbal abuse continued until I offered to refer her to a supervisor.  I came home and looked it up.  It's a state law but the feds back it up.  There were other calls of screaming people, that one was the worst.

I'm amazed at how some of the people think they can demand that I break Federal laws.  Prison orange didn't look good this past spring when the nursing home held Duane hostage.  It definitely doesn't look good now.

You know, I could have yelled at the bus driver this morning for my stupidity.  I just got on the bus, said my usual good morning and sat down still silently berating my "mislooking".  By the end of the day, I was ready to head for the Misty Mountains.

Have a great Sunday.  I'll be helping the good people of Arizona get their prescriptions filled.

I Blame The Snowbirds

Do you see those temperatures coming? Yeah, now this is what I'm talking about.  This is what I suffer the OMG I'm just going to spontaneously com-bust temperatures all summer for.

I've begun to notice something, a little trend.  Around the time the geese, hummingbirds and the snowbirds begin to make their way southward the temperatures start to dip for little bit. Usually it's just for a day or two.  This year the exodus southward was so large they dragged the jet-stream down with them for a whole week, causing a drastic weather change.  According to Pearl, the homeless were headed this way in droves.  I haven't noticed an increased amount of homeless every winter.  Though we do have way more than I've seen in other places.

When they head back north in the spring, they drag the jet-stream back up with them and do not let it go. Thus, our blazing hot, OMG I'm just going to spontaneously com-bust temperatures.

Like a good girl, I did go to work on about three hours sleep.  Sleep deprived and oxygen deprived, we thought the whole thing happened an hour later than it actually had.  It was a Ground Hog day moment when three o'clock in morning came around a second time.

The sunrise at 6:30 am over the eastern mountains.

After four hours brutal hours on the phone, the scheduler came over and released me from my phone shackles.  I was getting rather loopy by then.  So much so, I was tempted to call a customer and ask, "Can you understand me?  Am I making any sense?" "Thank you" and hang up.

Conversations of the sleep deprived:

Me: "When I get up from my nap, I'm going to have to give Dammit some more water."

Him: "Dammit's out of water?"

Me: "He has this much left."  I hold my fingers two inches apart.

Him: "Wow, I just re-filled his bottle a few hours ago"

Me: "Let me look again."  I squint at the water bottle. "Yeah, you're right, I mis-looked."

Him: "Mis-looked?"

Me: "I looked wrong the first time, so I mis-looked."

Him: "She can't find the words she wants to use, so she just makes them up as she goes along."

Me: "I use it all the time at work.  'I'm sorry you don't have anymore re-fills left on your prescription.' 'Ok, well, let me look again.' 'Yes, you're right, there was a prescription with one re-fill left, mixed in there.  I'm sorry, I mis-looked the first time.'"

Him: "Really." (sarcastic tone) I could feel his eyes rolling in his head while he was laying next to me.


I just found Pearl's blog, a few weeks ago.  It's one of the few blogs I read that doesn't have pictures to help me figure out what she's writing.  I know, I have to wind up my brain and pretend like I'm literate.  Go check her out, her posts are good for a little chuckle.

Happy Saturday everyone.

Be Careful Of What You Wish For .......

That's what my Grandma used to tell me when I was much, much younger.  Because you just might get it.  Of course, being very young, I thought that was the most absurd thing I ever heard.  Back then, I was wishing for Barbie Townhouse, kitchen sets, Easy Bake Oven and Baby Alive.  Which my neighbor got for Christmas and I didn't.  I used to think Santa got the houses mixed up, then I decided he was just a jerk. But, I digress and regress, this time.

That looks innocent enough.... just wait... there's more....

Back in 1999, I had the perfect job three days one week, four days the next, making more than I do now.  I lived with a complete jerk, who wouldn't leave and the kids were out of control.  I remember wishing I had more time for my crafts.  Really, I was just wishing the jerk would leave and the kids would settle down.  Instead, I injured my back and was out of work for the next two years.  Two weeks before that, I vacationed in Vermont and wished to move there.  That sure didn't happen.

This past July and August while I was filling out job applications 8 hours a day, I said to Duane,  "I wish I would just find a job, so I can go to work, come home and go to bed."  Yeah, that's what my work days consists of, when I take the bus.  I leave at 7:45am and don't return until a little after 8pm at night.  Eat supper, then in bed by 10pm.

This morning, my friend was supposed to be working the same hours as I.  She called last night and said she would be here between 9 and 9:15 in the morning.   This morning while getting ready for work, I wished I could have an extra day off to get some cleaning done.....

My friend is always a super early, very responsible type.  I was concerned when she hadn't arrived by 9:20.  Thinking she might be stuck in traffic, I called her cell phone and got her voice mail.  She's been out of work since Friday with her blood pressure.  Still nothing by 9:30 and just her voice mail.  That's when Duane got up and we conferred.  If I left on the next bus, I would be two hours late and that's a half a point.  Duane said, "Well, the perfect attendance you were going for November is shot anyhow, just call in and take the whole point."  Besides, I would have been a nervous wreck when I finally arrived, and had a lousy day.

At 5:30 pm, I still haven't heard from my friend.  Which isn't like her and I'm beyond worried that something bad has happened.

Anyway, as tempting as it was to just go back to bed, I'm not one to waste a day off with something silly like sleeping.  I tackled one of the corners I've been wanting to organize since before I started work, but was lazy.

Anyway, onto the insanity.....

This is a very small part of my life insurance.  Nicole thinks this is a small part of her inheritance.  I have her fooled.  I have determined that I can't die until I've finished every WIP in my possession that I have started. This includes any new things I may obtain.  That pile alone insures a very long life.

That's most of my cross stitch minus a few other projects and my books.  I've suggested that I could post a new picture every week for a few years and never have to take a stitch.  I wasn't kidding you.  There is a reason, I call myself the Queen of WIPsluts.

This is a very teeny, tiny portion of my fabric stash.  There is four more huge totes in my closet.  A bit of this is  fabric that will be making it's way to Cambridge very soon.  There is dress fabric and some tapestry fabric I bought to make a knitting bag.  Except I need to clean off the dining room table to set up my sewing machine.  That never lasts more than an hour as there no space in the closet we call our kitchen.

Needles need to be organized and stuck in that yellow box from which they jumped out.  I had been thinking I could use more knitting needles.  Except, that would mean I could start more WIPs and I don't need that.

This tote is full of odds and ends that I can't bear to throw out as I might use the stuff someday. (Who am I kidding?) It also has a jumble of cross stitch thread that I just threw in there when we moved.  I organized the thread this afternoon.  Just have to stuff in the right spots of my floss boxes.

Ah, that corner looks much better now.  Bottom tote is the fabric that could use some more organizing.  Middle tote is all the cross stitch projects.  The thought of that tote is so overwhelming it gives me the vapors just thinking about it.  Maybe I should make a list and try to knock them out one at a time.  I'll be around longer than cock roaches with that one alone.  Nuclear holocaust will happen, cock roaches will die off and here I will be sitting in my rocking chair stitching away, refusing to die until I finish them all.  Satan rests easier at that thought.

This top tote is the yarn for my Bargello Beauty afghan that I worked on for a bit last year with a few other odds and ends of stuff.  It's been in very slow progress since 2007.  One day I will finish it, really I will.

Now, to tackle this corner. In my defense, the large box that you can't really see next to the wheelchair is the bunny cave.  It holds the shower chair that Duane never used.  The bunnies have chewed themselves an entrance and exit holes.  They say we can send the chair back, but they are keeping the box. (That's a post for another day.)  Mostly, it's book boxes back there.  Just a yarn tote, the big box in front of the chair and the bookcase needs sorted.

Then there is my walk in closet. That gives me nightmares just thinking about that and I'm wide awake.

Not to mention the tote and bags beside my chair that holds my current projects.  We'll not talk about the stuff that is stored in my daughter's trailer back in NY that I still need move down here.  When I visit, I think will sort it out and hand much of that off to her.

Whew, I'm going to have to re-think this living long enough to finish it all.