Tuesday, 1 November 2016


We haven't had a decent winter since 2013/2014. In 2013, the spring was about a month early although there had been a lot of cold and snow and there has been hardly any winter to speak of. Well, last season, there was one night in early January when the temperatures fell to - 15 and my purple Vanda orchid and one of the big Ornithogala froze to death.
I haven't acquired a new Vanda yet, I'm going away for a few days so I'll order it for the next week and I learned my lesson. Soooo... Occupy Windowsills!

Monday, 19 September 2016


So I decided to be productive and decided that my closet needs decluttering. Because I apparently have a lot of clothes but nothing to wear. Which is due to the fact that I don't throw out things very eagerly, that I've gained quite some weight in the last few years and then some ten years ago but kept the clothes because they would be useful one day. Also, I lived in the damn hotel with some everyday basics and the rest stayed at home, vaguely remembered but not really used.
The stuff got sorted out by size rather vaguely and I stacked some of it in boxes in the attic. Upstairs I went... to discover rotting moldy floor. I picked up a few boxes which stood in the wet area - luckily it was yarn and I tend to pack my yarn in plastic bags anyway. The boxes happily disintegrated, I threw them away, relocated said yarn and phoned dad that the boiler is apparently leaking. A pic of destroyed parquet floor may follow, I made a few pics in case parents had some insurance to cover this (no they don't). Today I resumed digging in old clothes. All I managed is to spread a layer of random bits and pieces in the hallway and now I'm panicking. At least I have a small pile to throw away and another small pile to donate. Plus a major heap of rather nice stuff which is half a size smaller than yours truly - I'm approaching the pre-hotel weight (I might have gained around 13 kilos there due to stress and stress eating) so I'll keep it somewhere near the surface. It should feel good but somehow, it doesn't.

Thursday, 8 September 2016

Archaeology, of sorts

For various reasons, I spent the time between around January 2013 and March 2016 as a manager of a hotel in a Bad Ass of this world. It took a toll, I ended up burnt out, with less than stellar eating habits and, well, habits in general and now I'm struggling to put my life together. Things are going sorta fine, thanks, although I still have all sorts of problems with memory, concentration and the combo of both. And with the clutter.

Today I decided to reclaim the closet. I have barely used it for years, one of the reasons being that I had most of my everyday clothes at the hotel where I lived and the other being that I gained a bit of weight (stress eating, stress drinking) so whatever was in the closet three years ago, wouldn't fit this spring anyway. And, well, the surprises keep coming. I have a certain penchant for Japanese textiles and since we have fleabay where one can get just about anything, and quite a lot of stuff for something like $9.99 plus shipping, I amassed quite a pile. And now I dug out said pile from the closet. Actually, I have a thing for textiles of all sorts, and fashion, and whatnot. I should make a pile of fabrics that are meant for some clothes when the time comes. And yarn. I would love to provide pics but I'm afraid that I would be ashamed by the horribly messy backdrop of my place and all the stuff is all over and... anyway. There'll be a trip to the trash bin, or many, actually, but before, I should get rid of dust, hair and various other crap so I can spread the other crap on the floor to sort it out. Damnit.

Anyhow, I'm alive, kicking, doing things and feeling quite okay. Keep tuned for more of the same.

Friday, 3 June 2016


That's Iris x germanica, the yellow one; I should cull the clump and get some in different colours, and two bunches of Iris sibirica, the blue ones, which would deserve dividing and spreading all over the place - if there was place. There's somr Iris chrysographes at the other side of the garden but it's an early one, it's gone by now. The Austin rose, I think it's Jude the Obscure but I'm not sure, is coming to bloom and there's another one on the left which will be dug out as it never blooms.

Saturday, 17 October 2015


My mother says that I'm a damn hoarder.

Well, I don't tend to throw things away. Not that I'd live three metres deep in used tissues but I have files of old bills, boxes of various paperwork, train tickets accumulated since around 2001 and similar stuff. For some reason, I like to have my life archived somehow. Let's admit, I'm not the most orderly person so a good part of those receipts, cinema tickets and opera programmes are just stacked around. But, they're there.

While browsing the internets sort of randomly, I came across an article in The Atlantic which describes the ephemeral nature of the internet. I didn't need to go and lie down for a while out of the horror that I may not be able to access this or that. I'm apparently anxious or paranoiac enough to download stuff I like and save it to DVDs which are another stack of some-or-another. (When I go to Ikea, I need to get more storage boxes.) I abhor the clouds, no damn way I'm storing my data somewhere out there. I had a computer to die a sudden death back in around 2008 or 2009 and I lost quite a bit of my files, and before, I had a computer stolen, along with the data that included my almost finished thesis; what saved me was my habit of printing out and photocopying everything. (I also need more bookshelves. My model, Norrboten, Norrland or some other Norr thingy ceased production. Judging from watching the channels, I guess that most of the production ended in soap opera sets. Now what.)

The other day, I got a bout of what-will-I-do-if and as I tend to hoard stuff, I started printing out all my paypal receipts. I got only to 2013, 6 years to go yet. It rocks in a way, I'm bookmarking all the book bills and I'll finally assemble the thing called The Book List I've been keeping since I was 16 or so. On paper torn out from a school notepad. I will be able to add a lot of info to my Ravelry files, too. And I may end up with a neat row of files full of neat stuff; I can live with the lacunae caused by thrown-out receipts from brick and mortar stores but I must say that the idea of one database (the bills) supported by other database (old diaries, with the exception of the badly missed one from 2008 that was left on a train to Rome) and a few more partial databases (those train tickets, for example) will be nice when I'll be getting demented. Or some future wacko may use it to build a museum collection of some-or-another.

Monday, 5 October 2015


As I mentioned, my psychiatrist keeps giving me small homeworks. Task of the month is to find two pleasurable activities and do them daily. Not both, at least one.
Accidentally, when talking about something entirely different, a friend pointed out that there are companies that produce all sorts of herbal infusions and soaps and stuff who buy out herbs.

I love picking herbs, drying them and then... Well, frankly, herbs are generally overrated. They're natural, yeah, sure, but those which are not poisonous or dangerous have only a mild effect, part of which is the feel-good thing. Nothing bad with the feel-good thing. If someone feels better because he's drinking something that smells nice, I very much agree. Actually, I'm a pretty decent herbalist and if I were more of a cynical liar, I guess I could turn it into a business but I can't bring myself to lying to people that this or that could cure their cancer or broken ribs, nor could I explain how this feel-good potion enhances body's natural defenses by purifying it from toxins, I'd say it's mild diuretic, should help with the swollen ankles, use twice a day and if it doesn't help in five days, see your doctor.

But I'm digressing. There are people who pay money for herbs! Send a bag of dried St. John's Wort, we'll pay you three and half handfuls of cowrie shells per kilo! Someone wants to pay me for having walks and plucking flowers! So... I'm plucking flowers, drying them and having a goddamn good time. In fact, it's not that easy job, the other day, I brought a huge bag of plant matter and it was one whopping kilo of fresh stuff.

That was written at the end of June. Since then, a heatwave struck so stuff didn't grow much and now we're nearing winter. I probably wanted to make an excellent point or some such but I got distracted or forgot or some such. In the name of housekeeping, there'll be a few more stubs. Serves you right, dear readers.

Sunday, 4 October 2015

Another serving of depression

I'm halfway through second box of new psych meds; it seemed that it may have started working one way or another as in the first month using it, I consumed quite less clonazepam.
When I went to get my refill and for a monthly chitchat with my shrink, I found out that I had been scheduled to someone else. No chitchat (or, to be exact, whines), but I could read over the doc's shoulder to find out that, as per the docs' notes, I'm oriented, no hallucinations, not suicidal, show autistic traits and don't seem visibly depressed. Heh, I'm good in not looking very depressed. I'm chatty, especially when in stressful social situations, and I have brain enough to be entertaining and funny and coherent. As for autistic traits, well, could well be. I'll ask details. I know that I can't read social situations too well, for example, but I prefer to blame poor socialization in tender age and being called weird. I'll ask the doc.

I felt okay. Not excellent but when I take into account all the work crap, passably well. Regulars already know that work crap has passed various turning points, sank under the lowest low several times and now it's just an unending agony of routine, boredom and those sickening moments of surprise when someone, instead of doing their job, starts thinking without knowing how to and I need to fix the ensuing problems.
But, back to the next point: what stupid silly things can be triggering. I found a studio that had some dance classes, started doing contemporary, sort of hated every minute of it because I'm fat, ugly, out of shape and haven't danced in years so I had hard time taking it easy that I'm the clumsiest person around. And, then, trying to avoid doing something hurtful to my knee, I fell on my thumb and twisted it. Right thumb, obviously, and this way, I learned that one uses thumb of their dominant hand for more things than one notices. I've spent the week since blaming myself for being fat, ugly, clumsy and generally useless and the sassy blue bandage didn't really lift my mood. After all, it's a proof that I'm fat and clumsy.

And now comes the excellentest bit of logic. I'm fat, ugly and clumsy so I'd better hide under a stone instead of going and getting some exercise so I'll remain fat, clumsy and ugly, my life is a waste etc.

No way out.