Yep, I confess. Yesterday, I had a full-blown, super deluxe, stage 5 nuclear meltdown. Complete control rod failure.

What does this entail, you ask? Oh, nothing much, other than dumping out drawers, frantically pawing books off the shelves onto the floor, sweeping the surface of the desk with my arm, and flinging across the room two full pails of pens, pencils, flash drives, Post-It Notes and markers. Office Tornado. Parlor Cyclone. Massteria.

The Thriller, downstairs in his office, thought I was using Rousseau as a bowling ball. (Truth is, poor Rousseau was cowering under the dining room table.)

Why did I do this, you ask? Well…I couldn’t find something.

I know, I know. That’s ridiculous. Tear apart your parlor because you can’t find a piece of paper or whatever it was that went missing. It’s nuts, and a major character flaw. I used to clear my dresser in this fashion when I got mad. Jewelry box, framed photos, loose change, alarm clock, lamp…schlinnnnng!…away it all went. Actually, it was somewhat therapeutic, in a completely Outer Limits, beyond-screwed-up way. I’ll stop short of suggesting you try it.

After cleaning off the desk, picking up 3,000 papers, and putting the books back

Anyway, the Thriller takes these occasional tirades as a cry for help, and once again, he came to my rescue. He suggested — as he did four years ago around this time (dear God, I’m a hoarder) — a cleansing of the room. You know, kind of a demolition and rebuilding project. And since the demolition had already taken place, he was well on his way. So I decided, halfway during the cleanup phase, to photo-chronicle the transformation.

He went to Wally and bought one of those Rubbermaid stacked-up drawer units, so I wouldn’t have to smash all my office supplies in one desk drawer and two little cubbies in the hutch. Then he brought up an oak desk (no easy task) from his office and put it in the corner so I’d have a little more storage and a place for my printer that wasn’t the top of my space heater. He brought order to my chaos, calmly and happily, without once threatening to Baker Act me.

And then there was peace.

He’s a good egg.

He was so inspired by his magic trick in my parlor, he went down to his office and committed the same neatness crime in his own space.

And now that the transformation has taken place, all is in order and I am calm. There’s the whole issue of not getting ANYTHING on the list done yesterday, but hey, there’s always today and tomorrow and tomorrow, right?

Welp, we’re off to the veterinary opthalmologist in Akron today. (Apparently, there is such a thing.) Gotta get Pup’s eye taken care of. Then it’s back in time for cake decorating class. I must admit I’m really starting to like this “act like you’re retired” thing…

Have a great day!

TantrumFink

We took a quick weekender on Saturday and stayed at the Renaissance Cleveland Hotel. I’ve lived in Ohio for the better part of 39 years, and had never set foot in the place.

It takes up an entire city block on Public Square, home to Tower City Center and the Higbee’s building (now home to the Horseshoe Casino). Coming in off the parking garage and to the lobby is quite the culture shift. From crazy downtown traffic to an ornate, quiet, cavernous lobby, restored to its 1920s opulence — it was a welcome sight.

This property has had more rebuilds and name changes than just about anywhere I’ve been. Its underground train terminal made Cleveland the first city in North America to have direct rail service from an airport to downtown.

We were on the 5th floor, and enjoyed a small but comfortable room — with a view of the atrium on a little private balcony. Cool. The wooden entry doors had brass plates with engraved numbers, just like in the movies/olden days.

The Grand Staircase is a central focus of the lobby. And I wish I’d thought to snap photos of the old-style elevators. You half expected a uniformed elevator man to greet you when the door opened.

It was a nice, quiet stay in a beautiful place, where we got to play pretend tourist one final time before reality hits again. Speaking of which…it’s Monday morning and I have a meeting. Yay!

Sic infit.

Sleeping until 7:15 a.m.? Did the Rapture happen, and I was left behind?

Man, that hasn’t happened for a while. A LONG while. Now I’m all sideways and off my feed. But all is well; the Thriller and I are going on a short overnighter to get away, so there will be time for recovery and relaxation.

We’re boarding Rousseau for the first time ever. Not feeling super good about it, but we thought we’d try it this once. We always depend so heavily on our children and BFF Kay & Bob to care for him while we’re gone overnight, but this time, we decided to not ask them, mostly because he has an eye infection that requires medication, and the doc is not totally sure what caused it or what it is. Therefore, he’s not sure if it’s contagious to other dogs or not. So we thought the vet’s office boarding facility might be a better place for him until tomorrow night.

Do I sound like I’m rationalizing a guilt-ridden decision? Oy.

Anyway, this is one of the last hurrahs of the summer. August is upon us, fiends. That means it’s time to get into schoolhouse mode. Where has the summer gone? I had to postpone my recording session at BoomR’s house until next June, but by crackie, it is going to take place then fo sho. My pipes might well be on their last gasp, but we’ll get it done.

I was going to write a review this morning on the HBO film I watched last night: Hemingway and Gellhorn. But…I’m still not sure how I feel about it. More research on their story is needed first.

So hey, it’s the weekend, and it is an absolutely gorgeous day here in Smalltown, Ohio. Right now it’s 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. All our doors are open and it smells great. This is what summer should be, every day. Enjoy!