Yesterday, I was cleaning the back deck and stairs (almost three hours of backbreaking work), policing up the upstairs fireplace (it is shiny now!), priming cupboards in the upstairs kitchen, and policing up the fridge and stove (the new used stove has some really weird plastic bits on it that are nasty to clean) and now I just finished scraping paint where I could off the back deck and finishing/detailing the upstairs bathroom, all but the floor and toilet. I must have cleaned the shower doors 5 times before all the smears came off. Now to the dungeon to finish cleaning out the storage cupboard so I can do the downstairs ‘dungeon’ rug, or maybe I’ll detail the last item in Keith’s room (louver doors) and then go eat something. I sure wish Paul hadn’t cut the hose on the central vac (it was awkwardly but usefully long), there’s parts of the house that are not reachable as a result; I may have to bring my new vacuum cleaner down here, which I emphatically don’t want to do without a car.
Last night I watched District 13. I heartily and without reservation recommend it if you want to watch a pure, adrenaline soaked, heart’s in the right place action flick (watch it in French with the subtitles. This may be one movie where the subtitles are better than the original….). The reviews I read of it led me to believe that the script was crap and the acting worse, but that the action sequences were worth the price of admission.
BS! It’s a good movie. It ain’t a film, but it’s a movie, and movies, by Gar, are supposed to MOVE. I liked all the actors and the violence was cartoony and the script was snappy and the basic premise was nasty and believable, at least to an old conspiracy theorist like me. I have every intention of sitting down and watching it again when I get home.
I was talking to Keith (who else would I watch a parkour movie with??) and he said that he has no intention of moving in with me. I was relieved by this. I want him to come see me when he feels like it, but I think he’d be better off with his dad. I also straightened a couple of other things out which I had been somewhat concerned about, and while the truth may hurt, I feel much better. I will say one thing, which I am finding amusing. As I badmouth Paul less and less – because 25 years of bottled (and alas, not so bottled) rage, frustration and disappointment are now turning to “Thank Goodness that phase of my life is drawing to a close”, I learn from Keith that Paul is badmouthing me more and more. Anyway, considering the sh*tpile of nasty things I’ve said about Paul it’s only fair that some of my chickens come back to their guano-coated abode. In the end, I hope I can always boil it down to, “Nice guy; can’t live with him though.”
But life is beautiful these days; I have another 17 Aubrey/Maturin books to read, as Keith has borrowed HMS Surprise for me. I read the durned thing, which candidly explains my grogginess today! Back at home, I keep hearing the SFU pipe band off in the distance (where it belongs, as Keith drily remarks). And with any goddamned luck, my internet will be running again tomorrow. Here’s hopin’.
I’m smiling a lot these days.