Posts Tagged 'de-cluttering'

life’s hard, especially if you’re made of synthetic materials

I entitle all my storytimes for quick reference purposes later. Last week’s storytime was “Extraordinary Poultry.” There were chickens saving lives and ducks wearing underwear and we danced the Chicken Dance and it was extraordinary.

I tidied up my work space today FINALLY, sifting through a pile of papers and junk while Motormouth laughed and snapped candids and Facebooked them for the world or at least my network to see my shame. I found a lot of things including not my dignity but at least my storytime puppet that went missing last week (wearing a smooshed look between a stack of reports and craft supplies) and a copy of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, which I’d finally given up and paid for a month ago.

I also ran across a storytime plan from April 2nd. It was entitled “i just broke up ha!” Wow. I’d forgotten that morning after Hot Lunch and I broke up was really something. I brandished the piece of paper at Motormouth and described what it had been like:

I remember I’d just kept thinking, How am I doing this? How am I going around like my life didn’t just end last night, smiling and storytiming and singing SHAKE YOUR FUCKIN SILLIES OUT!?!

Whew. Life is much better now. In fact, I’m doing pretty good on the loving myself front. I took myself on my first date, just the one of us, a couple of Fridays ago. For my first try, there were only a few slight hitches.

I got embroiled in a one-sided conversation with my waiter that I didn’t know how to extricate myself from without wolfing down my meal and escaping. Which I did. While in line for my ticket I got a phone call from my mom who, when I boasted about what I was doing, responded thusly:

me: “I’m going to see Toy Story 3 by MYSELF!” 😀
Mom: “Oh I’m SO SORRY! What happened? Where is everyone?”
me: “I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I wanted to go by MYSELF!”
Mom: “Well I’m so sorry I’m not in town, I could have gone with you! We’ll take a rain check, ok?”
me: “It’s ok, Mom. I’m here on purpose. By myself. It’s FUN!”
Mom: “Ok then, take care of yourself, ok? And I’ll go to a movie with you when I get back.”

Toy Story 3 turned out to be a bad choice given the conditions. Long story short, if you were the family seated near the strange lone woman mopping tears from behind her 3D glasses, I am sorry for creeping your kids out. Blame those sadists at Pixar.


customer service is my middle name — er, names

i just spent the evening at cupcake’s new Mini Mansion, and let me tell you the M squared is SWANKY already, even though she still has some big furniture pieces to move in tomorrow, she doesn’t have quite all her art hung yet, and she’ll be the first to tell you she won’t move in until the ice maker has produced a healthy crop of cubes. a girl has to have standards.

while cupcake was pondering where to put her freaky indie art piece featuring a man with an octopus for a face (she rejected my suggestions of “in the trash” and “behind something big”), i continued sorting through a bin of MY OLD CRAP that i’d brought over. i discovered some old notes i’d written to myself about funny things that happened while i was working the circulation desk years ago, intending to put them in my blog at the time. well, four blogs later, here they are! better late than never!

customer service skillz in person
me: How are you?
patron: Good.
me: Good! Thank you! (it’s an automatic response, but i sound so touched at being asked!)

customer service skillz on the phone
me: What’s your last name?
patron: My name is Claudia S. Bering. Do you need my number?
me: No.
Claudia: (pause) 555-3539.
me: I can only find a large print copy.
Claudia: Regular print is fine. Do you need my number?
me: No.
Claudia: (pause) Is that a yes?
me: No!

customer service skillz with families
kid: Dad, I need to go out to the car and get something.
dad: Get what?
kid: Just… something.
dad: What something.
kid: My… library card.
dad: Isn’t that your library card?
kid: No.
dad: (beat) Looks like your library card.
kid: It’s… just… Dad, can I just go to the car please?

customer service skillz with… everyone else
(Vague Woman is accompanied by Beret-Wearing Man who doesn’t speak)
Vague Woman: I don’t have my card. (offers driver’s license) Berger-Munch, Candice.
me: (looking her up, i find a record with all the same information, except with a first name of Jocelyn.) Umm… We have you under Jocelyn!
Candice: That’s right.
me: (pointing to driver’s license) But here it says your name is Candice.
Jocelyn: Ohhh… (shakes head like this happens all the time) Too many names… (trails off, nodding and smiling in a “you know” kind of way)

makes me miss the crazy days of circulation.

fear not, i have changed all the real names (and some of the fake ones) to protect the local wildlife. and p.s. is Berger-Munch like the best made-up name ever? i know.

hang on, little tomato

on Monday, my sister’s house is shortselling or foreclosing. one or the other. we don’t know which. we just know everything has to be moved out by this weekend.

this means that Cupcake and the Pants spent the evening with me in my sister’s garage, sorting through box after box of ALL MY OLD CRAP i left behind when i moved into my apartment in February. after the wine spritzers were poured and we had exhausted all our box jokes, then the hard work started.

you don’t understand. i was a hoarder up until just a few years ago. my former self held onto almost every possession, every paper since i could walk. luckily, i’ve already worked my way up through high school on my own and thrown most of that away. tonight’s features were random selections of college papers, books i never read anymore, and EVERY COLLEGE TEXT I EVER OWNED. the Goodwill is getting some heavy ass boxes come Monday.

time for the HALL OF FAME!

  • coolest find: a huge chunk of amethyst
  • hardest find: a bag of my first boyfriend’s old crap
  • strangest find: a long blond ponytail, severed and rubber-banded together

in the end we achieved a lot… probably half of a lifetime of accumulated shit dispatched in only two hours. two more hours are all that stand between me and freedom from my past.

but by the end i felt like i was drowning in my past. artifacts of hard times i want to forget, artifacts of simpler times i wish i could return to…

and simply being back in my sister’s house… back breathing the atmosphere of our ruined friendship while feeling all around me the fun times we used to have together here. our favorite show we used to watch Thursday nights (tonight) was playing on the tv amid the wreckage of trash and keep piles. our old family cat, ecstatic that i had finally come back home, started weaving around my feet in her old bedtime routine as i was heading out the door to my car.

and that’s when Hot Lunch sends his customary good night text. Hot Lunch, who just called me yesterday to tell me tearfully that he loves me, but isn’t in love with me, and that it sucks that he never gets to see me anymore.

these ghosts are killing me.

but when the Pants and I trudged back home exhausted, after dropping and shattering our unopened bottle of wine in the parking lot (yes, Pants, I’m finally starting to laugh about it now!), i entered my apartment to find it warm and sweet-smelling, softly lit with music playing. this is my life now. less chaos, more chamomile.

parting with the past is particularly hard when the future is unclear. but this isn’t a bad place to spend the present. i started to tidy my already tidy apartment and get ready for bed. the song that was playing? Pink Martini’s Hang on Little Tomato.

when change is hard and not so nice,
if you listen to your heart the whole night through,
your sunny someday will come one day soon to you.