Chores

I don’t know why this wasn’t pub­lished a cou­ple of days ago. The new ver­sion of Word­Press has some weird bugs in it.

Life at home this week has been a flur­ry of task-drag­on slay­ing. Every Thurs­day I clean a bit of the shed out back, pil­ing up tow­ers of junk on the curb for scrap­pers and the fan­tas­tic Cleve­land Waste Man­age­ment fel­lows to take care of. I’ve been clean­ing and prepar­ing the upstairs unit for a ten­ant, which results in mul­ti­ple bike trips to Home Depot each night. I’ve been tag­ging some of my per­son­al junk for a yard sale I’m going to have On May 24th. I had an idea to make it a Punk Rock Flea Mar­ket in hon­or of Punk Rock Soft­ball, which I’m going to have to miss this week­end. It’d be sweet to have a bunch of Cleve­land rock­ers show up and browse each other’s indie crap they don’t want any­more. Grills and beers and infor­mal­i­ty.

Sort­ing through all of the stuff upstairs has been an adven­ture, and it will be nice when the sec­ond half of the down­stairs is com­plete, so that Deb­bie and I can arrange our stuff in some sem­blance of final­i­ty. It’d be nice to have space for the kid when he shows up too. There’s a ton of work that needs to hap­pen there in prepa­ra­tion as well. I’m wait­ing until after the baby show­er to ramp that up.

There’s so much going on, and I feel pulled in so many direc­tions, that I’m almost shack­led by inde­ci­sion. Back to work.