The neighbours' pigeon, alas, didn't work out. It started flying about her apartment, ignoring the oats and water set out for it, flying into things, landing on picture frames (of which she has many), shitting on walls, typical pigeon behaviour, and when it had enough it left.
I was pretty sure it wasn't going to work out.
Monday, Tuesday, we've become the "Midnight Sushi" joint. Nothing happens all night and then, a quarter to close, they come, 1 to 5 tables, to whittle my time away into the wee hours...
Tuesday night, returning late to my apartment to find a not stuffed in my door advising that they're coming - the Pastor and repair men - to inspect my heating unit.
This is, of course, impossible, my place is quite literal a landslide of art supplies and dishes; a mess, proper-hoarder type scenario, I mean, I was dealing with it as fast as I could, bringing stuff to/taking stuff from the Locker, but - I'm dependant on other's for rides and so it wasn't going exactly quickly. Add to that I was looking at organizing my art supplies in the locker in a way they weren't organized at home. So it was to be a process...
It becomes obvious there is no time for the process. Wednesday, up early and stressed, coffee, breakfast, roll up my sleeves and hit the mess. Not cleaning, per se, more hiding shit in my bedroom, moving garbage from one pile to another. It takes about 4 hours and I'm done, or close enough, everything squared away, a "reasonable", "somebody lives here" sort of mess, my shrine is obvious and should be visible to the pastor, as is the King James Bible I leave on the bookstand to be duly noted as well. I think of opening it to a favourite passage, but I'm trying to keep it in the realm of somewhat plausible...
I got to admit, it kind of feels good. The weight of all these unfinished things swept away and stashed in closets, well, it's good, makes obvious how easily and why my focus is so scattered, a semi-clean apartment (never mind the bedroom has become "the mess" - nothing happened there anyways). Over the next few weeks the mess will move from the closets to the locker where they can be further sorted and categorized, and things can come from the locker to be built upon or sold, this dependancy on other peoples' schedules is a bit of a nightmare but must be endured until I'm driving myself...
...and the days, outside, beautiful, sunny, the sort of weather one should be chomping on nuggets down by the river or bashing at some overhang or striding the forest and digging holes or going down into ancient mines...
Instead, out of my apartment, hiding out at the library until the heat pump has been examined...