House In Order, day 20

[cjsmith]

(18 and 19: dishes and Quicken.)

Today I dug out the pile of Ancient Unfinished Sewing Projects and added the two I found in desk drawers. It's a sad-looking pile. I hate thinking about how long these things have sat waiting to be finished... so long that, for many of them, there's no point any more. Patient died awaiting surgery.

There's a theme here, and the theme is: mending. The newest project in this pile (I can tell because it's in the newest desk) is more than two years old (I can tell because it's a pair of hiking pants, and I've been too gimpy to hike for 27 months now, not that I'm counting). The oldest is from college at best.

So I sewed a couple of buttons back onto the hiking pants. I have no idea if they even fit me any more, but at least they can go to Goodwill this way. I pulled out the spaghetti-strap sweater I started to fix four years ago or so, ripped out my attempted fix, and measured for a better fix. (Note to persons purchasing gifts: never get a spaghetti-strap sweater for someone with an actual chest enough chest to require support. She'll need to wear something under it, see. Get both neurons working together and you'll figure it out.) Not sure I'm going to bother doing the fix; I'm four years chestier than I was when I received the thing. I may sew it back the way it was manufactured and give it away.

There are still at least six items left in the pile. Grump. How do normal people stay completely unfazed by something like this? Do they simply lack the gene that tells them when something is their fault? That's the best explanation I have. (It fits a bunch of other behavior I see, anyway.) I think I would deal with a lot of things better if I lacked that gene too.

I am grumpy now. Next lifetime, I want a body that works. (*And* does not require clothing that hurts.)

Edit: Got rid of two shirts from the pile. I am now WAY too chesty for one of them, and the other does not allow me to use my arms. Poof! 30% of the workload gone. Still grumpy though.

Comments

[cjsmith.livejournal.com]

Sleep helped a little.

I've come up with a new theory for Boobage Management and a few other issues I have w.r.t. my body. There are THREE sexes. Why haven't scientists noticed? ;-) They are: Men, Women, and People Who Spend Time And Energy Actively Managing Their Boobage. Men, Women, and People Whose Hips Are More Than 13" Larger Than Their Waists (pants will never fit). Men, Women, and People With Monthly Abdominal Pain Making Them Unable To Stand Up. It's sort of like there's a continuum: man -> woman -> me.

I want a sex change. I'd be okay with being a woman.