I missed the 20 May deadline to get the Buckwell to get the drawings into council, to keep me on track to get the extension built at number 14. It could still happen, but I'm realistic that one missed mini deadline makes the chances slimmer of making the big deadline.
And now there is one other thing that might cause the mission to fall over.
The Buckwell read the blog.
The Buckwell never reads the blog. But several days ago, he read the newest entry, then decided to go for the back issues. I tried to distract him with a glass of whiskey and a plate of cheese, but he was having none of it. He read back, and back, until he got to Mission 037.
He said nothing while he read. Instead, he just smirked a little, and raised his eyebrows in a sort of a "we'll see, shall we", expression. Then, when he finished, he looked over at me on the sofa, where I was busy pretending to read a book, and trying desperately to make out that I did not care that he was reading the blog, and even if he did, then if I did not acknowledge that he'd read the blog, then he would not comment and forget about the blog, and I could continue my machinations to see it through to its deadline.
He looked at me with a faint smile. "That's funny," he said.
"But is it realistic?" I asked.
"Maybe," he said.
I got my hopes up - perhaps my extension mission was not dead in the water!
But it is now several days later, and the extension drawings are still in a pile gathering dust...
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Mission 040: Where Susan saves the planet
It is 5:58pm.
The house is freezing.
We do not have a heater.
Although we do have a fireplace, in which I have set a fire, ready to go.
I want to light it.
Badly.
But the longer the fire is on, the more wood I burn, and the faster the planet burns too.
Bloody carbon.
Therefore, my mission is to hold out until the Buckwell gets home and there are two of us to damn the planet. Then, and only then, will I light the fire.
In the meantime, I will stay at the laptop, moving my frozen fingers rapidly over its warm keyboard, until the euphoria caused by writing causes the rest of my body to emit a toasty literary glow.
What bollocks I am talking. Forget it. This is a f**king stupid pointless mission.
I'm putting on the fire now. And opening a bottle of wine.
The house is freezing.
We do not have a heater.
Although we do have a fireplace, in which I have set a fire, ready to go.
I want to light it.
Badly.
But the longer the fire is on, the more wood I burn, and the faster the planet burns too.
Bloody carbon.
Therefore, my mission is to hold out until the Buckwell gets home and there are two of us to damn the planet. Then, and only then, will I light the fire.
In the meantime, I will stay at the laptop, moving my frozen fingers rapidly over its warm keyboard, until the euphoria caused by writing causes the rest of my body to emit a toasty literary glow.
What bollocks I am talking. Forget it. This is a f**king stupid pointless mission.
I'm putting on the fire now. And opening a bottle of wine.
Mission 039: Where Susan turns an accident into a piece of literature
I have just had a slight and foolish accident which, hopefully, is not going to result in any outward physical injuries. It was caused, inadvertently, by one of my damn library books (21 at last count). It was not, before you jump to conclusions, caused by the leaning tower of books on the bedside table.
Instead, I was in the study/laundry/library scanning several pages of the Gotham Writers Workshop book, as it is already a few days late, and although I am loathe to give it back, I realise that if I keep it too much longer, that it will be cheaper to buy my own copy. So I have scanned 50 pages to keep me going until I order one from Amazon (I would use Fishpond, but they don't have the most up-to-date version - boo, Fishpond; sort yourself out). As I finished scanning, I picked up the laptop to return to the lounge. As I did so, it slipped and clouted me on the nose. Don't ask what sort of a position you need to be in to cause this sort of an injury; suffice to say it is awkward. (The study/laundry/library/storeroom is very small and requires a highly able person, preferably without snowboarding knee ailment.)
I spent the next five minutes with a packet of frozen edamame clamped against my nose and upper lip, until I could no longer bear it (today is the coldest day of the year so far).
It is now almost half an hour later. It still hurts. I don't think it is broken. But I will not be happy if I get a bruise. (Athough it is likely.)
So I am going to turn this unfortunate incident into a poem. What can I say. I'm a writer. That's what I do. (Unless I am procrastinating.) Deadline 25 May.
Instead, I was in the study/laundry/library scanning several pages of the Gotham Writers Workshop book, as it is already a few days late, and although I am loathe to give it back, I realise that if I keep it too much longer, that it will be cheaper to buy my own copy. So I have scanned 50 pages to keep me going until I order one from Amazon (I would use Fishpond, but they don't have the most up-to-date version - boo, Fishpond; sort yourself out). As I finished scanning, I picked up the laptop to return to the lounge. As I did so, it slipped and clouted me on the nose. Don't ask what sort of a position you need to be in to cause this sort of an injury; suffice to say it is awkward. (The study/laundry/library/storeroom is very small and requires a highly able person, preferably without snowboarding knee ailment.)
I spent the next five minutes with a packet of frozen edamame clamped against my nose and upper lip, until I could no longer bear it (today is the coldest day of the year so far).
It is now almost half an hour later. It still hurts. I don't think it is broken. But I will not be happy if I get a bruise. (Athough it is likely.)
So I am going to turn this unfortunate incident into a poem. What can I say. I'm a writer. That's what I do. (Unless I am procrastinating.) Deadline 25 May.
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Mission 038: Where Susan has a clear-out
10 signs that autumn has officially arrived at our house:
We have used the fire (twice)
We are (mostly) wearing socks inside instead of bare feet (must buy slippers).
The leaves have fallen off the peach tree and the fruit is ripening on the mandarin tree
We are no longer drinking sauvignon blanc, but are preferring hearty reds, such as shiraz voigners and cabernet sauvignons.
Instead of talking about going to Waiheke Island for the weekend, we are talking about buying snowboards and going to Ruapehu.
We had a chorizo sausage casserole thingy last night for dinner.
The barbecue is gathering dust.
My tan has faded.
In last night's shopping we bought two Ponsonby pies and bunged them in the freezer, anticipating that they might become a warming Saturday lunch.
Quinces and pumpkins are really cheap at the moment.
Can't complain. After all, it will officially be winter here in three weeks, and some days it still feels as if it could be summer in London. However, although the coat cupboard has started seeing some action, there are lots of clothes that need to be banished, because in our teeny tiny house, there's only enough room for one season at a time. So I present to you - the autumn spring clean. Deadline: 18 May.
We have used the fire (twice)
We are (mostly) wearing socks inside instead of bare feet (must buy slippers).
The leaves have fallen off the peach tree and the fruit is ripening on the mandarin tree
We are no longer drinking sauvignon blanc, but are preferring hearty reds, such as shiraz voigners and cabernet sauvignons.
Instead of talking about going to Waiheke Island for the weekend, we are talking about buying snowboards and going to Ruapehu.
We had a chorizo sausage casserole thingy last night for dinner.
The barbecue is gathering dust.
My tan has faded.
In last night's shopping we bought two Ponsonby pies and bunged them in the freezer, anticipating that they might become a warming Saturday lunch.
Quinces and pumpkins are really cheap at the moment.
Can't complain. After all, it will officially be winter here in three weeks, and some days it still feels as if it could be summer in London. However, although the coat cupboard has started seeing some action, there are lots of clothes that need to be banished, because in our teeny tiny house, there's only enough room for one season at a time. So I present to you - the autumn spring clean. Deadline: 18 May.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Mission 037: Where Susan pushes for more space
Six months the Buckwell and I have been in our little house, which at 55 m2 consists of:
one lounge
one kitchen
one bathroom
one bedroom
one laundry/study/library/storeroom
It is a very cute house, and just perfect in summer for two people freshly moved back from the UK, from an apartment the same size.
It is not, however, big enough for two people, one cat and a dog. Especially in winter, when the french doors are closed, and the dog has been outside for a wee in the rain and has come back in stinking of wet dog. And the study/laundry/library/storeroom is too cold to write in without gloves and ugg boots on, so the dining table (which is squished into the lounge room) is covered with all manner of folders and books and pens. And three laptops.
Last weekend, some friends rang to see if they could pop in for a visit with their two children, but it was raining, and even though the Buckwell was away, there would have been three adults, two children, one dog and a cat stuffed into one small lounge room. I had to tell them all to go home. I was actually busy writing (that was my legitimate excuse for barring the gate), but really, even if I hadn't been, there's no room at number 14 for rainy day visitors.
In the beginning, we blabbed to plenty of people about how we were building an extension onto our wee house. "It should be done by Christmas," we said to UK-based friends. "You can come and stay."
We meant Christmas 2008, although thankfully, no-one took us up on the offer, or they would've been camping in the back garden. And now Christmas 2009 is looking increasingly less likely, too. The trouble is that our architect (the Buckwell) has too much on his plate to have time to draw up the extension and get it into council. And, ironically, the house is too small to work in without distractions.
So from today, I am going to set some deadlines, clear some space, and motivate the Buckwell into getting it done. He has no idea that I am setting these deadlines, and is unlikely to read this blog and find out. So this mission is more about motivating someone else, rather than me doing.
These are the deadlines:
Drawings into council: 20 May
Obtain quotes on work: 1 June
On site by: 25 June
Extension complete by: 25 August (just in time for me to have a birthday party in the 'new house').
Wish me luck.
one lounge
one kitchen
one bathroom
one bedroom
one laundry/study/library/storeroom
It is a very cute house, and just perfect in summer for two people freshly moved back from the UK, from an apartment the same size.
It is not, however, big enough for two people, one cat and a dog. Especially in winter, when the french doors are closed, and the dog has been outside for a wee in the rain and has come back in stinking of wet dog. And the study/laundry/library/storeroom is too cold to write in without gloves and ugg boots on, so the dining table (which is squished into the lounge room) is covered with all manner of folders and books and pens. And three laptops.
Last weekend, some friends rang to see if they could pop in for a visit with their two children, but it was raining, and even though the Buckwell was away, there would have been three adults, two children, one dog and a cat stuffed into one small lounge room. I had to tell them all to go home. I was actually busy writing (that was my legitimate excuse for barring the gate), but really, even if I hadn't been, there's no room at number 14 for rainy day visitors.
In the beginning, we blabbed to plenty of people about how we were building an extension onto our wee house. "It should be done by Christmas," we said to UK-based friends. "You can come and stay."
We meant Christmas 2008, although thankfully, no-one took us up on the offer, or they would've been camping in the back garden. And now Christmas 2009 is looking increasingly less likely, too. The trouble is that our architect (the Buckwell) has too much on his plate to have time to draw up the extension and get it into council. And, ironically, the house is too small to work in without distractions.
So from today, I am going to set some deadlines, clear some space, and motivate the Buckwell into getting it done. He has no idea that I am setting these deadlines, and is unlikely to read this blog and find out. So this mission is more about motivating someone else, rather than me doing.
These are the deadlines:
Drawings into council: 20 May
Obtain quotes on work: 1 June
On site by: 25 June
Extension complete by: 25 August (just in time for me to have a birthday party in the 'new house').
Wish me luck.
Monday, 4 May 2009
Mission Update
I've had mixed success lately. So positive news first.
Mission 036 was a success. (!) I managed to refrain from buying books or borrowing any extra books from the library until after 11 April. Of course, on the 14th, I went absolutely bonkers, taking out library books right up to my limit (22 books). I guess I was binging after my book diet. And oh, it felt goooood. Might need to get a sturdier bedside table though...
However, now for the failure: I have not yet grown an aubergine. (Or an eggplant, for that matter.) The damn flowers keep forming and then falling off, despite me taking to them with a cotton bud, poking each flower in return, and swishing it about inside their purple petals like a primitive IVF specialist. And now the plants have started to die off. Not sure if it is a disease, a pest, or just getting too cold for them, but something tells me that my time for aubergines is over for this season. I'll have to pick up my mission again in spring. On a more positive note, though - I have not had to buy tomatoes for the last two-and-a-half months, despite my father telling me that it was pointless planting them last December: "Too late - it'll be a waste of time." HA! It was not a waste at all. Although I concede that they were (are) a little tasteless - probably would have been better planted earlier and I will do that with the next ones. Definitely not a waste though this time. Oh no. No wasting going on. Not even with all the time spent watering and the feeding and the cost of it all. No waste. (Believe me?). The second crop of beans are also coming away wonderfully - although there is something eating them, which is almost making me consider going non-organic. Why won't the birds eat my garden pests instead of the grass seeds? Zucchini plants are about to die off too, sadly, so I will have to go back to buying zucchinis, after almost five months of picking them straight from the garden.
On a complete aside, I would like to have a rant about something grammatical. However as rants don't usually come under the category of missions, you'll have to read it here. (Please do, as I fear greatly that this grammatical failing is becoming more widespread, and a few short minutes of your time can help stop the degradation of language and thus society - do your bit!)
Mission 036 was a success. (!) I managed to refrain from buying books or borrowing any extra books from the library until after 11 April. Of course, on the 14th, I went absolutely bonkers, taking out library books right up to my limit (22 books). I guess I was binging after my book diet. And oh, it felt goooood. Might need to get a sturdier bedside table though...
However, now for the failure: I have not yet grown an aubergine. (Or an eggplant, for that matter.) The damn flowers keep forming and then falling off, despite me taking to them with a cotton bud, poking each flower in return, and swishing it about inside their purple petals like a primitive IVF specialist. And now the plants have started to die off. Not sure if it is a disease, a pest, or just getting too cold for them, but something tells me that my time for aubergines is over for this season. I'll have to pick up my mission again in spring. On a more positive note, though - I have not had to buy tomatoes for the last two-and-a-half months, despite my father telling me that it was pointless planting them last December: "Too late - it'll be a waste of time." HA! It was not a waste at all. Although I concede that they were (are) a little tasteless - probably would have been better planted earlier and I will do that with the next ones. Definitely not a waste though this time. Oh no. No wasting going on. Not even with all the time spent watering and the feeding and the cost of it all. No waste. (Believe me?). The second crop of beans are also coming away wonderfully - although there is something eating them, which is almost making me consider going non-organic. Why won't the birds eat my garden pests instead of the grass seeds? Zucchini plants are about to die off too, sadly, so I will have to go back to buying zucchinis, after almost five months of picking them straight from the garden.
On a complete aside, I would like to have a rant about something grammatical. However as rants don't usually come under the category of missions, you'll have to read it here. (Please do, as I fear greatly that this grammatical failing is becoming more widespread, and a few short minutes of your time can help stop the degradation of language and thus society - do your bit!)
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