And I have survived to tell the tale.
Let me explain...
Sunday night, Mr. Nada and I had a big ol' argument that was really over something trivial; I've since found out that he was worried about something else and there was just a little thing that set it off. Didn't find that out until very early Monday morning, though, so I spent all evening and most of the night thoroughly ticked off (he can get very pompous when he argues, and that just goes right through me; plus I made it very clear quite a while back now that I won't grovel or take his crap any more...if he's gonna sling it expect some to be slung back...it's a formula that works for us, trust me).
Which brings me to Monday. I had paid up so far on my gas bill that I had a credit, which kept me current for quite a few months past the last time I paid. (I'd had a payment arrangement, and I never can read my gas bill right, so I always pay more than I should, but anyway.) I don't get a bill in the mail because I've switched pretty much everything to online billing only (and if any of you remember me, you know my mail issues). I had checked it last week but it didn't show any sort of notice, and it was not due until next week, so I just figured I'd pay it Friday and be done with it.
Oh no. Not in the real world. In the real world, there was actually a disconnect on the account that I was not aware of (my mail issues again) and the gas guy showed up today and turned it off at the meter outside. I wasn't even aware of it, because after I saw the kids off to school (yes, my son drives now), I shamelessly went back to bed. I'd had another bout with insomnia Sunday night and I was exhausted.
Mr. Nada didn't get home from work until about 11AM, and he informed me that the gas was off.
So, to make a long story longer, I paid the bill over the phone and the lady said that the gas man would be there to turn it back on "sometime today", but no guarantees on how soon. She said it would be at least an hour and more likely several hours.
I'm sure most of you know the drill...not only do they turn it on at the meter outside, but they have to come inside and make sure everything is good, plus do the whole water heater thing (I have gas heat and gas water heater and gas stove, but it has an electric igniter). And if you remember me, you know my state at that point...panic.
I grabbed a couple of blankets in this front room that the kids had out and put them away really fast, then hopped in the shower to use up the last of the hot water in the tank. I got my hair sorta dry and clean clothes on, and was in the kitchen bagging up my kitchen trash bag (my kitchen trash can is an odd size and the bags are always bigger than it is, so we take out the bag to get the last third or so full so as not to waste trash bags) when I heard the knock. -eee-
I flung the bag onto my
back porch and let the gas guy in the
front door. About the first thing I said was, "I'm sorry the place is messy, I wasn't expecting you so early." He waved me off and went about his work. About fifteen minutes and he was gone. He was nice and polite the whole time he was here.
Now, this is a significant event for me for several reasons:
- Those of you who remember me know that I hate having people in my house at any time for any reason whatsoever.
- Those of you who remember me know that I hate having people in my house when it is not spotlessly clean.
- The house was probably a level 1:
coffee table in TV room had kids' stuff on it from schoolwork they were doing the night before; you could see the table; the stuff had not been there for weeks on end
the sink had about five dirty dishes in it from the night before/that morning
the kitchen counter had a few papers on it; you could see most of the counter
my daughter's guitar was on the couch
my desk was a bit messy due to my working on another laptop (parts and papers); you could see large areas of the desk
I had a small plastic bag of clothing sitting on the seat of my kitchen nook that is for donation
the floor could have used a visit from the Roomba (the battery has been acting up)
- I did not panic, I didn't stress myself out, I calmly went along and straightened up a few things while he was there just like any normal person might do during the course of their day.
I don't know about anyone else, but for me this is a HUGE milestone. I've always been afraid to let anyone in unless my house was looking like a showplace. I struggle with the OCD notion that if it isn't perfect, it isn't good enough. My mind works like this: Nobody can be let in when it is squalorly but nobody can be let in unless it is pristine, either. Happy medium? What's that? I know the concept of it, but the practical application eludes me.
I definitely don't want to use this as a rationalization to slide back too far the other direction, but I have got to realize that "perfect" only exists in magazines and my stepmother's house. The rest of us, we live in our homes, and if occasionally they have a few things sitting out then okay. If my house looks a little "lived in" every once in a while, then okay. It could be because people, oh, I don't know, live here.
And lastly...I fix this really nice breakfast-for-supper complete with homemade buttermilk pancakes, and my poor daughter decides tonight would be a fabulous night to come down with the stomach flu.
Poor thing. She's sleeping right now but I'm still up washing puky clothes. But you know what's cool? I can get to my washer, without standing on a foot of dirty clothes to get to it. Amazing. I still marvel at my laundry room floor.
I am hoping the circle is now complete.
It's a far, far, far cry from level 4 (or level 6 on some sites, I don't know what scale you all have been using). And that is a good thing.
To all of you out there struggling along with me...it can be done. I'm far from 100% maintenance, but I'm proof that you can, you can, you can can do this.
