I didn’t know how I would feel after I finished what will go down in history as The Great Purge of 2016, but I expected that I would feel a little more triumphant.
I mean really, I’m pretty sure I got rid of in 10 days as much as I got rid of in a year.
Instead, I just feel old.
That’s what happens when I neglect my own self-care for a month.
I got back on the old yoga horse today and took Shareef’s 6am class. It was rough and he said he was going easy on us. I suspect I’ll be back to myself in a couple of weeks, at least as far as my yoga practice is concerned.
The emotional temperature of the Frye household is a little frosty. While Loony never got overtly upset, I feel like I am on my heels. He’ll ask me what happened to x,y,z and for the most part I can account for all of it, except the records.
I’m constantly defending myself.
I went out of my way to not get rid of stuff that had real meaning to him but the cumulative effect of that tension has me worn out and defensive.
At some point I would like an acknowledgment of the vast amount of effort, sacrifice and time that it took to get this done. People pay beaucoup bucks for this kind of service.
Oh, and did I mention that I had the living room repainted in the middle of it all? I wanted Loony to come home to shiny and new home. I get that having a bunch of stuff go missing sucks, but let’s look on the bright side.
My current frustration is with a bunch of cases of wine that were in the basement. They were purchased over 30 years ago by Loony’s brother. We have no idea where they came from except that they are old and haven’t been stored properly.
But OF COURSE they are worth lots of money (according to you-know-who) and even though we discovered them over five years ago, they are living in that limbo being potentially too valuable (but not really) to throw out but no one knows how to properly sell them because selling vintage wine is kind of a complex deal. So let’s just shove them into a corner and not think about it.
THE STORY OF MY LIFE!
So I did the smart thing and called a local wine buyer from a reputable store and he came over to take a look.
“They are all crap.”
He held up a bottle of 1963 Rothschild and said that 1963 was a “tragic” year, terrible wine. 1961, however, was “epic” but even if this bottle was from 1961, its condition (very low volume, rotted cork, foil eaten through, color, murkiness, etc.) makes it basically garbage.
“Wine auctioneers have to be able to vouch for the chain of possession of the wine. It left the chateau on this date and then spent the rest of its time in a temperature and humidity controlled cellar for the remainder. They visit the cellars to certify that the temperature and humidity never flux.”
Our basement does not meet those standards.
Pivoting to Loony’s next question, I asked if the bottle was collectible.
In the interest of being thorough, I asked what he would do if this was his wine.
“I’d throw it in the trash. It’s worthless.”
No, he did not offer to recycle the bottles for me, just incase you are wondering if he was devaluing them so he could get his hands on them. And if they had been valuable, he said he would do the research necessary to sell them, for an hourly rate. So I’m pretty sure he’s not trying to trick me.
I told all this to Loony and what did he say?
“Well, then let’s recycle the bottles and get them out of here.”
“I’m pretty sure they are valuable. Someone on the internet said that some of my bottles are worth $1500 a piece.”
WELL FIND THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND TELL HIM TO COME OVER WITH HIS WALLET!
“I’ll sell them on eBay.”
Of course he will. Along with the 2000 square foot warehouse full of stuff that he already has!
So they are in my dining room. Indefinitely.
I just want to get my house cleaned up because I have a home visit with a Chihuahua rescue organization today. I really want to get another Chi. Not that having a perfect house matters to them, but I want to stick this landing.
I am dog sitting Stephanie/Penny right now and she is such a joy. If she wasn’t in a great home already I’d take her. I love her sunny disposition and I think Blue is happy to have her here. His diarrhea finally cleared up and he’s feeling like himself again.
I want my life to get back to normal in the worst way. I feel crappy which probably has to do with the tension in the house, the stuff all over the place that needs to find a home (like four cases of shit wine), my body hurting from lack of daily yoga and stretching and shitty sleep and GUESS WHAT? Loony is convinced he has Zika virus.
Good thing he’s not expecting because a baby with a tiny head is that last thing I need right now.
But now he’s got Scratchy thinking he’s got Zika and maybe I have it too (as if I care about having a virus that you don’t have to treat) and I don’t feel like listening to a litany of symptoms. Just shut up and take care of it, like I do whenever I get sick.
Per the CDC website:
- There is no vaccine to prevent or medicine to treat Zika virus.
- Treat the symptoms:
- Get plenty of rest.
- Drink fluids to prevent dehydration.
- Take medicine such as acetaminophen (Tylenol®) or paracetamol to reduce fever and pain.
- Do not take aspirin and other non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDS) until dengue can be ruled out to reduce the risk of bleeding.
- If you are taking medicine for another medical condition, talk to your healthcare provider before taking additional medication.
Ok. That was harsh. Of course I care of Loony is sick (kinda, a little, maybe) and OF COURSE I’d be concerned in Scratchy has it. But me? I’ll be fine. I’m just tired and I would like to not take care of anyone but myself for 24 hours IF THAT’S TOO MUCH TO ASK!
I went to bed at 8:00 last night and slept with the window open and Steph/Penny under the covers. I slept soooo well which only slightly lessens the sting of missing out on taking a belly dancing class with Myjah and a bunch of hot men.
She tortured me with some after pictures wherein she got them to cook her dinner, topless.
This is totally something I would do. Both the forced topless cheffing and the torturing of the lame-assed friend who bailed, which further reinforces my belief that she is the daughter I never had.
She makes me so proud (sniff).
If she really loves me she will get those hot bitches to come over and cook dinner for me in my house. I have a bunch of really nice wine …