Adventures of a Sky Pyrite

My life has more plot twists than the top twenty reality shows (combined). I'm not kidding, btw. At first, I thought I was just a magnet, or the goings-on were directly caused by my decisions (half of them are), but then I realised that God was mining and refining me. Like a lump of unsuspecting pyrite who's being transmogrified into some 24k. Or something of that nature. Anyway, thanks for your visit (and don't say I didn't warn you...:)

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The shower floor is both crookedly.cut and wavy on the horizontal plane, or so it seems...

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It doesn't get better than this. (#treasure hunter and/or unhoardingness-helper, or, like, "yay for symbiotic relationships" and all.)

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First wearing of shoes I bought between three and thirteen months ago for $150. Note to self: No more polyurethane outsoles, which apparently undergo this hydrolysis thing. (Sigh.)

[skypyrite]

Just in case anyone thinks I have three outfits and one pair of shoes.

(Not that it matters 

1) what people think, 

2) what people believe about one’s wardrobe (or lack thereof, which obviously certain peeps don’t suffer from),

3) if one has a similarly-skimpy wardrobe (to the aforementioned  “three outfits” bit, I mean), and/or any number of other reasons.)

This room- 12x15, btw - is completely filled in this manner, aka “waist-high on a 5′7.5″ beast,” meaning that one literally must WADE into this... like, ocean... of clothing.

(Half of these are Victorian or “pre-Edwardian,” anyway. 

My band is GOING to wake up again, and none shall say me nay! 

So, like... There. I think? 

(This be an example of HESITANCY, btw. Which one should NOT use in general speech--particularly when one is (attempting to) speak(ing) of oneself, eh?

Um... Where did that come from? Ah, that’s for the reader to remember. 

Just never forget that everything is, indeed, connected.

Everything comes back “full circle,” as it were.

Or does it? 

Coz, like, a circle follows one trajectory, whilst the noble SPIRAL keeps going and going and going--following the same trajectory (of sorts), though the path itself steadily and increasingly (a lot) narrows. And stuff.) 

(BTW, were this an exam question, the student would get to identify at least THREE concepts (which we’ve covered in class) in this entire posting.

[skypyrite]

I’m sorry, Baby Wasp. 

(Who wasn’t actually a baby, but a GEEZER, if its development was to be trusted.)

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After the salad table, there was the platform storage bed, about a dozen low-profile, wall-hugging baby shelving units, and a host of other things.

YAY for the cull bin!

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And yes, I did, indeed, build that beastly salad table. (It was the first thing I built, actually. Well, with lumber, I mean. I’ve built machines and metal stuff before, though. This was... Julyish? of 2013.)

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Seven types of basil (the planter with the purple plant), chives, cilantro, tomatoes, lemons, green onions, and about fifteen types of mint. 

Most of them were started from seed.

And it was so yummy!

(After the epoxy fiasco, I had to cheer up or else I’d have died of a bad mood. But how can one be vexed around food? :D

[skypyrite]

As if this slobitha hell wasn’t enough (and may I remind everyone that NOT ONE THING in the above photos is mine. Not one DROP of that stuff, y’all. Note the beastly panelling, btw.)...

As IF the uncured epoxy floor wasn’t enough...

...THIS GREENHOUSE arrives one sunny day.

[skypyrite]

These were, indeed, feathers made by God and not a toy manufacturing company.

Tragically, the curling at the ends of the feathers--which chimney swifts (a bird living in chimneys) don’t have--and the presence of the corn snake in that same foyer with black tiles, AND the suspicious displacement of paint and glue trapness is consistent with my hypothesis that the naughty, NAUGHTY corn snake decided that my foyer was a buffet at the Strangulation Cafe.

 (What a naughty corn snake it was, traipsing about and preying on the baby chimney swifts hanging out in the chimney. Hmph.)

[skypyrite]

1. Yes, those be spike shoes.

2. Stare HARD at the last shot. 

If you thought, “Oh me, oh my, even someone with anorexia who was addicted to heroin couldn’t fit through that, much less a hellion who wore a size 18ish at the time!”, then, like, there we are.

3. Remember that last shot? WELL, that’s exactly where certain people squeezed through... only to find a jovial corn snake slithering happily across the floor. And yes, the human was COMPLETELY filling up that tiny gap in the far right bit of stair (next to shop vac), and the snake froze in terror upon sensing  an impending series of earthquakes.

Hence the beginning of Project NU’UH, Y’ALL!

[skypyrite]

Sparkly Things That Kept Me From Dying During This Never-Ending Project, Vol. 1

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Front and Center: CHALCOPYRITE.

~swoonery~

:)

[skypyrite]

After the Xylene etc. didn’t work, I scraped up the trash, then scrubbed it (with dish soap and water, then vinegar, then water, then more soap and water, then alcohol.

BTW, I lived an hour away at this time, and was commuting every single day (over 400 days with not one break. But I’m the sort that COMPLETELY loses momentum if it’s interrupted, so I was glad to go.

NOW, however--late OCT 2015--I’m having a hard time getting into the swing of things coz I’m teaching on-campus (though I love my children), and I have relatives coming in during the weekends, and they do NOT correspond to a delayed sleep phase schedule thing. So I’m completely worthless now, due to the twin breaks in my concentration. Actually, I’m mildly suicidal over the lack of progress, but am unwilling to give up my teaching (and NOT because of the $4000 per annum I currently get--yep, two Master’s and a Ph.D. and I can’t even afford groceries. Hmph.)

Wait, that sounds ungrateful. I should better say “I long for an escape from this life for at least 16 hours a day, BUT... my MAIN MAN--JESUS CHRIST! <3 <3 <3 -- Is SO SO SO THE BOMB BIGGITY that I can’t even see why I’m even typing this and sharing it with my beasts. 

Ah, I remember now.

See, cleaning up after not one but TWO hoarding households, and trying to fix the issues in the house that were caused by some beasts’ negligence... it’s basically my worst nightmare. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that I died and went to hell.

And I’ve been doing this for FLAMING THREE YEARS NOW.

If it were up to me, I’d CHUCK the entire lot of it. 

But it’s not mine--and there are a few treasures here.

And because of the prison camp fiasco (if you don’t know, don’t ask. Seriously. I’ll never stop once I start. Hmph.), I am grateful to have a roof over my head in the first place.

I just wish I had some help. Physical labour, I mean. 

Sturdy though I may be, wrangling with a piano leaves its mark on me, even.

Ok, time for a whine-fest.

OH!

I just looked up and saw the painting with Jesus on the cross.

I’m sorry, God. I’m sorry for going on this long.

I’m sorry for wasting time on ridiculousness like faux finishes when there are precious people--Your creations! who haven’t heard about how much You love them.

Help me to get on track and share your message with the world.

Or the corner that You’ve entrusted me with, anyway.

Ba7ebak TONS.

:)

Love,

the LEAD-HEADED BEAST called “Galena.”

;)