I’m mooooviiiing…

…and it’s absolutely chaotic! But as the old Swedish poet says: Chaos is neighbour with God. I buy that! Now I have to take apart the rats’ cage (a nasty, evil, huge creation which need to be cleaned thouroughly before anyone – but me – can touch it and move it out of here). See you later!

Yey!!

In 24 hours from now…

…and I will move in! I woke up at seven this morning and felt a very large smile across my face. Yesterday I finished in the kitchen (gosh – what a white wall I have) and I even enjoyed some of this…

Somebody tried making me believe that she’d cleaned the windows. She forgot to tell me in which century it was. I doubt it was in October 2008. Really! The windows were so dirty I had to scrub them and still they weren’t clean. The effort I put into the job payed off, anyway. They may be greyish in some areas, but they’re much better than before. I also attacked a Grease and Hair Monster in one of the cupboards (big yellow with long black hair stuck to it) and removed it with environmentally unfriendliness and curses.

And here it is now – the result of last week’s shopping. My new, dark red curtains! Welcome to Clifford!

The downside of packing

There it is. The downside! The things I don’t like about packing. The many passions gone to waste. Lost loves. Lost battles. They are obviously a part of the future too. I’ve been putting them in black plastic bags. Rotting corpses of the past. I’ve dragged them out in the sun to have a close look. Nope. Don’t need those anymore.

Clifford makes dreams come true

I brought a piece of my true self home today. I brought two new baby rats home. A tiny brown Opsis Kalopsis and a tiny grey Agare Bagare Kopparslagare. There will be no more complaints about my rats. I’ll be back to where I was three years ago, back to my true self, in company of six wonderful pet rats. They were my hobby, my inspiration and my biggest interest back then. Before I met the Disaster – Mr Cold As Dead Fish. He’s wanted the rats dead for three years. This is the Clifford Revolution. I’ll do what I want. I’ll have my life back. Green walls. Pet rats. Me. This is what I’ve been dreaming of.

Packing’s got its charm

Packing is hell. Never am I so aware of how many things I’ve got and never ever do I feel so ashamed of it. It’s unreasonable to have hundreds of thick, heavy books, zillions of letters, old diaries, flowers, pens, fabric, important notes in piles… Why should it be so difficult to not own that old vase my mother had daffodils in when I was a child or that brutally orange curtain with pink and brown flowers on and which I’ve kept only to make somethingofbutIdon’tknowwhatyet?

Packing is hell, but still it’s got it’s charm. I open a box and get stuck for minutes and hours. I find my diaries from 2001 and 2002. I find the most amusing notes from my former students, something about listening to the radio and laughing about Elvis that I don’t understand anymore, pictures, long descriptions and verbal vomit about my dreadful collegues and the work at school… This is the best thing about moving! At the same time you move towards the future, you travel back in time too. I find postcards from Greece, writing projects from 1997 (I still have the story in my head, but haven’t written it down…yet), writing projects from 2003 (have yet another story in my head…which I haven’t done anything of so far)… And this goes on while I pack. My bookshelves are a chamber of treasures (to me anyway – I know that these boxes will make people grunt and moan next week when I ask them to carry them for me).

And what do I find? It’s absolutely hopeless to even try to organize the packing. No matter how I think about it and make the most perfect packing in my thoughts, it always ends up in chaos. Books, notes, dust… and an upset twoyearold. Everywhere! And there I am. In the middle of it. Reading old diaries. I just refused to do anything about the Ghetto Castle today. Say paint and I’m ready to punch somebody. I took a day at IKEA with my girl instead. IKEA is a giant playground to her. Of course I ended up buying another soft toy… This time it was a bright orange crocodile! Not to mention the lovely mirror! It’s for children (I’ve got a perfect excuse to buy things for kids – lucky me) but I will probably hang it in my hall… There aren’t enough yeys in the world to describe it. I L-O-V-E it!

That’s my day. IKEA. Packing. Finding projects I never finished. Jokes I’d forgotten about. And thanks Linda for the Sloganizer! A day with Clifford couldn’t be more right!

Soon

No pictures for you. Well, I have a few in the camera, but not much time to upload them. I’m done painting the bedroom. Yes, I know. I didn’t really have a plan for that room, but yesterday morning, I decided on painting it white with a pinkish tone. So I did. Today. It’s much bigger now. And the white/pinkish walls will be perfect for our rat room/office/library/playroom – especially when I hang the pink curtains from my previous (good) life. Kitchen will be done in another 30 minutes, but first I have to pack a bit. I need a time out from the painting. I am becoming sick of it, really. Painting white wasn’t as good for the soul as painting green was.

I’m not with words today. Death came by and took a friend last night. Pet rat Pablo was celebrating his first birthday. He was young and healthy, but it didn’t stop Death from taking him away. Some of you may think “my God, it’s only a rat”, but my pet rats are very special to me. And Pablo… He was one of the really good ones.

Anyway… I did some shopping today. What it is? You’ll have to wait till I’m done (and till I’ve uploaded more pictures). Tadaa! Something to look forward to in  other words. A little like Christmas. But in October. Ha!

The living room is done

I begin my day as always. I serve myself a cup of hot tea and a piece of dark chocolate, before I get to work.

A few hours later, I am finally done! I am just removing the plastic cover from the floor when the painter arrives to fix a hole in one of the doors. He loves the colour and says I’ve done a great job for someone who’s never painted a wall in her entire life, that I’ve chosen a good quality paint and that the work I’ve done and the money I’ve spent will pay off. He encourages me to keep up the good work. It makes me happy. He’s a pro. I chose to listen to what he says and to keep it in my mind, in case there will be more of those not welcome landlady visits.

I immidiately start on the kitchen and is so overwhelmed by my success and the perfect result, that I forget to have lunch. I just don’t seem to need it. I am singing and dancing and I just feel to clean a bit too. I find an old biscuit under the fridge. I decide to leave it. Maybe it’ll come in handy if all my savings disappears in some huge world economy depression. Ha!

Unfortunately I can’t upload pictures without problems today (which of course has caused the use of some less flattering expressions), so you can’t see the the kitchen work or me on the floor inspecting my work. You just have to imagine those. Maybe tomorrow…

Heart

I’m out to buy lunch. When I get back to my appartment, my door’s wide open. The landlady is there with the caretaker. I find them in my living room. I was expecting them before lunch, because I was going to show them how badly the place was cleaned before I got it. They don’t see me come in. It annoys me that they’ve just walked in. It annoys me even more when I discover that they are inspecting my work and they have opinions about it. I am not done! I say hello with my largest smile, while my blood slowly begins to boil.

Are you painting? is the landlady’s first question. You want green? I smile and say I prefer green instead of blue flowers all over the place. The landlady doesn’t like the green. I see it in her face. And then she says it. I’d prefer the white wall, if I was you. I show her the grease behind my stove. No reaction. She’s taken by the green. That’s all she comments on. She’d prefer the white. She repeats herself and I want to enjoy my lunch. Suddenly I am aware of a negative vibration in the air. I want her out of my home! Out! So you always paint and stuff? she askes. Well, yes. It’s important to feel at home, I reply. But you won’t leave the walls like this, will you? I can’t believe she just asked that! Of course I will, you twit! I will grow potatoes on the floor too! Get out! I’m afraid she’ll be able to read my furious thoughts. I am tired. She comments on a lamp and then she leaves.

I have my lunch and feel her scepticism like syrup under my feet and in my hair. I have to let those things go. She’s not the one who will live here. I am. I am not doing any of this to please anybody else. I am pleasing myself, but she’s left something behind her. The little scarred heart of mine is bleeding. I feel fragile all of a sudden. Then I paint the walls for the last time. The result is stunning. They are absolutely marvellous!

When I’m done, I wash the roller. I am standing by the sink when the first tears come. I am crying. I am both happy and very, very sad. I wish my dad was there, but he’s in what most people call Heaven. I don’t know where that is. He never left any address. I wash green paint off the roller and off my hands. And there… In the tray… I hold my breath. The shape of a heart! I look around, as if I was to find somebody behind me. I look at the heart again. The heart is growing, both in my chest and in the tray. I look at it for several minutes, before it dissolves. Then I know it. I am not alone. He’s there too. I just can’t see him…

Thanks dad!

Spring

It’s autumn, but spring moved in to my ghetto castle today. My heart was beating very fast as I started covering the walls in happiness. I really love this green colour. I love to be in my new home. My singing echoes between the walls of the empty rooms. Every day, before I get to work, I celebrate life itself with a piece of dark chocolate and a cup of tea. Of course I have green tea. I imagine it’s good for the soul. Dark chocolate. Green tea. The smell of drying wall paint. The smell of curry chicken from next door. Even the light smell of old urine in the stairs. I love it!

Help, grease and two buckets of God

The Ghetto Kitchen is one dirty kitchen. I happened to take a look where nobody else has been looking for quite some time. You’ve already seen some of it, but that’s not all. On top of the freezer I found dust and grease and… things?

The Ghetto was built in 1973. There’s probably 35 years of grease in my kitchen… This is some of it.

When I was looking on top of things, I thought I’d just take a look on top of the cabinet in the bathroom. I wasn’t surprised at all… The lady who had the place before me is very short, it might be an explanation, but not an excuse - still there are ladders in the world, I believe.

Since it’s my lucky day, I got help! Stéphanie didn’t hesitate to attack The Grease Monster on top of the cupboards. I must say, she did a remarkable job. The Grease Monster was screaming and crying for mercy, but she didn’t listen. She just rubbed and washed and rubbed again!

What did I do today, except for finding all the nasty spots? I covered the living room in white paint! And I tried to do something about the stone wall in the corner… That’s when I heard my mouth saying shit for the first time. I think I used the h-word too… I’m sorry, mom…

The best part of the day was when we went to buy the green wall paint! It rained and a we were completely soaked when we got back home. It was worth it. We got two whole buckets of God! Yey!

Tomorrow… White will turn to green. There’s only one word for it.