It’s a good thing I’m good at being out and about, but eventually everyone has to return home. We cancelled lunch with Janel for at least half of the week, but even if we ditch lunch we still have to come home for naps, a supper-picnic on a blanket in the living room, and bed. Our landlords don’t want us to move anything back until they’ve brought the carpet cleaner out for another clean of the flood area (but why won’t he back up on his way out and clean the entryway where everyone -including him- stands with their shoes on? I bet with only a little bit of effort he could pull sludge out of that singular square foot of carpet.) They won’t call him out until it’s good and dry next door, too. Eva thinks probably she’ll have him come out on Monday. “I can’t live with a bookshelf in my kitchen until Monday,” I exclaimed to her on Wednesday morning, not confessing that I had moved that particular bookshelf back to it’s home the night before. She conceded on that point, but told me to leave the rest alone. It’s easy for the girls, who have only a few things, “but you have so much stuff, it’s very difficult.” Oh yes, I am so sorry that we are not two 20 year old college students. We are a family of four with two small children and we live here, and have for five and a half years. Yes, we have bookshelves and a tv cabinet. We have a futon for guests.
I was finally able to get the wet carpet smell under control (baking soda-based carpet deodorizer) but when I’m down on the floor I can still smell it. And after being home for a couple of hours I start to cough. I don’t cough at all during the days when I’m out. I’m getting paranoid, but I’m starting to wonder if my mother-in-law is right that this place is going to kill us slowly and that we’re all going to develop lifelong problems because of the careless manner in which our landlords have dealt with this cleanup.
It’s so hard to sleep, to feel rested, to feel happy when living like this. Paul is now a firm believer in ch’i. He can feel it, finally. Our household ch’i is very angry. We need to return our furniture to where it belongs, we need to restore order to our home. Everything spews anxiety into the air.
I have to remind myself to check my email once a day. I forget. It’s such a big deal to go upstairs and use the laptop, and I’m trying so hard to be out. But I remind myself because if I tell people that email is my preferred method of communication then I should make whatever meager attempt I can to do my part.
I wish I had been using our afternoon naptimes to purge the unnecessary items from our home, but I’ve had to nap every day. I can’t seem to make it through the day without a nap because my night sleep isn’t satisfying and it is exhausting to live like this.
Soon. Soon. I need to remind myself that this is not permanent, that nothing is, and that change will come soon. And hopefully, with that change, will come a simplified life, a piano, and a home of our own before too long. Allowing myself to get depressed will only fuel the disorganized ch’i that is suffocating us. Tomorrow we’re having a family day at Griffith Park. I don’t know how that will work into my plan to actually get some cleaning done, but getting out, being together, and being happy are priority number one these days. We’re getting desperate.