60. the one with all of my crack

remember my last post?
well right after i hit ‘publish’, like, IMMEDIATELY after i pressed the button, i rolled my chair back and looked up.
in this house, you should never look up.

“hmm… what is that tiny little crack doing up there?”  *poke*
“oh f***! HUSBAND! the whole motherf***ing ceiling is about to fall down! the plaster is no longer attached to anything. it’s all bowed & crumbly… it’s only held together by emulsion!”

it made me sad, because all of this hard work will become trashed when we deal with it. again.
computer cupboard

would you like to see some more of my salted wounds?
remember when my sewing room looked like this for about 2 minutes last summer?
fiona t empire

and then we put the central heating on for winter, and the house moved a bit, and then this:
the entire length of the motherf***ing wall.
not even held together with paint.

it makes me sad because all of the hard word will be trashed when we deal with it. again.

and then there is still thisno ceiling

just hovering there above my head, reminding me that i cannot possibly do all of the things. whooshing arctic and other crap (woodlice & mysterious gold flakes & soot & DUST) around my head and ankles everytime i use the bathroom. constantly SHOWING ME that i am wasting my time (cleaning / trying to stay warm / breathing…)

it makes me sad because …FFS … you know?

i don’t know if it’s socially acceptable to say you’ve suffered from depression in the past?
i’ve already written about how i’m obsessive, i’m agoraphobic & i’m prone to panic attacks, so i don’t think it’s a secret?
i’m mostly okay now, but every so often, usually around this time of year (when winter has gone on long enough and it’s just grey grey grey) it comes back to give me a little prod, to remind me that it’s still there. waiting.

and i’ve been naughty, complacent. the coffee, cigarettes & chips diet is not so good for more than a few days at a time. nor is lack of sleep, or functioning on adrenaline (grey)day after (grey)day.
and i’ve been ill. and throw in the house fail frustrations…
…and then eventually anxiety (about every possible thing) gets too much, irrational meltdown follows and lying on the floor crying occurs.

Husband: “tea or coffee?”
“i don’t know i don’t knooooowwww i don’t know anything i can’t choose because i’m such a useless human being i’ll pick wrong why are you making me choose WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??!!”  ( <– as an example. i would always pick tea. duh)

i know how stupid & pathetic & self indulgent it probably sounds from outside. but whatevs.
fortunately, i have a better support network than i did 10 years ago (that is code for: i have so many mental friends now that when it’s my turn to be the crazy one it’s no big thing). and i’m better skillularly at doing the things that i know will help me.
and i have my sewing (therapy).

last week, i had to switch off all of the internets and stop beating myself up about all of the fails and impossibles. i needed quiet & alone, and i needed the equivalent of a comfort blanket and chicken soup.

comfort blanket:

chicken soup:
fiona t zombie easter rabbits

i’m doing much better today :)
all i need now is a sunlight?


59. the one with the tables

“dear all of the shops,
where is the tables that are just the right amount of high and with shelves exactly where i want them? the ones that’re simple, practical, inexpensive and made from untreated pine so i can decorate them how i want?”

“dad? could you…”

last week, my order was complete and ready to collect :)
console unpainted

^ a little console table for by the front door, for the phone and other crap.
exactly the right amount of high and the correct amount of wide to fit between the window & door. the top shelf is deep enough to fit 2x wellknownswedishretailer wicker baskets, and the bottom shelf is high enough off the floor that i can hoover under it (dog fur and spider webs, i predict) without moving stuff.

and a coffee table…
pine coffee table

^ again, the right amount of high and perfect for ease of under-hooverability, and the right amount of small (yet plenty big enough) to be proportionate in my little house.

(the TooBig wellknownswedishretailer coffee table we brought with us from the last house caused no end of shin injuries & stubbed toes as we tried to squeeze between it and the hearth. also, the hot from the fire kept melting the glued together joints…)

oh, did i mention how tiny our house is? this makes it really awkward when trying to do anything.
such as the painting of furniture for eg.
border collies also make things really awkward if you’re trying to do stuff.

dog fur varnish

luckily the beginning of the week was warm(ish) and most importantly NOT RAINING, so i took advantage of the Outside to apply undercoat, sand both pieces down, and woodstain the tops.
i daydream-thought i could watch romcoms for the rest of the week whilst painting, but after kneeling on damp, cold tiles for a couple of hours i decided Y / N.
also, picking dog fur out of wet varnish is faff.

so for the actual painting days, i simply shoehorned myself down the left side of the TooBig kitchen table by climbing onto a chair and dropping down behind the radiator kinda)  or stood on chairs to reach. fiona is not the right amount of tall, nor the right amount of flexible anymore.painting

by today though, everything was complete! *happy*
so i spent most of the day sorting out all of the crap (deckchairs / titanic. i have simply dumped everything in the kitchen) and cleaning all of the things before i put the NEW STUFF in place.
it’s almost like a normal person house!!!!!!!

coffee table

(except for the fact it’s still 87% building site)

console table

please to ignore the mould, the rotten door, the damp floors & plaster-falling-off-walls. apart from that though, like a normal person house!!!!!!!!

** hand made furniture by dad @ jft carpentry

58. the one with the mouse

i went to lincolnshire last week, to stay with my parents.

it was all very lovely – we did all the things (shopping, sewing machine fixing, eating, staying up ’til 2am, sleeping til lunchtime…), we watched all of the things (game of thrones season 1 (again) and 3463875637486 sandra bullock films), and laughed a lot.
especially on the day sal came to visit and we did potato prints on mom’s newly painted dining room table (fyi, red paint will STAIN, even when it’s watered down enough to create blood spatters).

but let’s skip to saturday night, when we all got together for a very civilised evening.
a very boring technical discussion about computers was occurring, when suddenly archie shouted, “MOUSE!”

<a seconds silent pause for confusion – was this part of the computering chat?>

“no!” *pointing frantically* “A MOUSE!” 


“quick! someone fetch a jam jar!”  <— this was a stupid idea. and it wasn’t even mine.

general chaos ensued as the poor, terrified little guy zigzagged around the room leaping magestically at walls and doors trying to escape, while dad, archie, sal & Husband pulled the room apart to flush him out of awkward loose covers ‘n corners (too slow, guys!).
mum & i stayed in the kitchen – to make sure anakin was safe – and watched the hilarious farce unfold.

one of my personal highlights was when, halfway through the exercise, Husband turned the lights on and everyone *gasped* at WHAT A GOOD IDEA!

he was an athletic little mouse, a skilled climber, several times he climbed the tv aerial much like this:
(**to reconstruct this scene, i have had to photoshop a mouse off of google because i didn’t think to get my camera out soon enough)

i thought i might get a better picture from outside, from through the window, but i wasted valuable minutes arguing with mom about whether i was allowed to put pictures of her dining room on the internet before she’s finished decorating in there.

by the time i took this, the search was over because…
catching a mouse

sal: “the mouse has leapt at my face and become entangled in my scarf!”

let’s look again, like a slow motion replay:
mouse trap
^ my sister’s neck: humane mouse trap.
(from there, he was carefully released and safely escorted from the premises)