That was my run total for last week. Not too shabby. I got there doing 5 miles on the track, 5 mile tempo on the dreadmill, and 12 long bloody miles on the Capital Crescent Trail on Saturday.
I'm cranky. I'm cranky and crabby. I have too much to do. I have an endless loop in my head of crap that needs to be taken care of and it's getting on my last nerve. Maybe if I write it all (or most) down here (you lucky people!), I'll feel better.
My kitchen is a disaster. The wood floor has come up in places. One drawer completely fell apart. We stripped all the wallpaper three months ago and it's been like that ever since.
So I had to hire a guy to repair the kitchen. I found someone with good references and he came Saturday and now I'm waiting for his estimate. Except his estimate depends on all this other stuff. It's not like I have a big kitchen. It's not like I want to do anything elaborate. Why oh why can't I live in Russia where you get one kitchen and you learn to love it?!?!
But no. I get to Make Decisions on all kitchen stuff. I suck at making decisions. Like counters: laminate? or corian? I have about 3 feet of counter space. But I don't want to spend a lot because the plan is to rent this place out and move when Number One Daughter leaves. But laminate is so crappy and it doesn't hold up. But if I install Corian, am I overimproving?
Meanwhile, everyday my condo's market value drops. Sigh.
Then I have to decide about the kitchen floor: vinyl, right? and the kitchen guy says buy vinyl tiles. But what color? And what kind?
Cabinets: I have 8 cabinets in my enormous kitchen, all made out of papier-mâché and should probably be replaced. But kitchen guy gave me three options: paint, replace doors, or buy new cabinets.
How the hell do I know??! Plus I have to pick out colors. For EVERYTHING.
Most women love this stuff, right? Am I missing a gene? Am i a MAN?!?!
So last Thursday, I'm sitting on my couch, minding my own business breathlessly awaiting Top Chef finale when it starts RAINING IN MY BATHROOM. Yes, again, the upstairs neighbors have a leak in their bathroom. This is the third time. I had to clean the mess, call the condo office, then call the owner (he doesn't live there, he lets his maid and her 25 bongo- and karaoke-playing relatives live there), and schedule contractors to replace the ceiling.
Last night those same neighbors had sex. Ask me how I know this??!
Find a swim coach.
Do Something About Biking. I bought a crappy broken $30 bike trainer which I've yet to use. So I'm going to a crappy spin class. I should drag my bike to the bike store and go to a REAL spin class. But I can't get my act together.
Decide what tris I'm going to do and SIGN UP.
Do my freakin' taxes!!
Sort bills. Please please sort them out, I'm begging you.
Send dresses back to E. who sent them to me for possible use at The Ball. I have had the box at work next to my desk since JANUARY 20!
While you're at it, CLEAN YOUR DESK. PLEASE!
Submit various bills to insurance company.
Answer that guy who wrote you on match.com. You can totally do this!
Sign up for writing class. Start. Writing.
Start feeling bad now about Number One Daughter moving out in May. Why wait?
Start looking for new place to live. But put that on hold until you fix kitchen and bathroom ceiling....