good.

As usual, I spent most of today feeling like I was getting nowhere, and then as soon as I felt like I was slowing down stuff suddenly started to be done. I went over my to-do list and I was a bit amazed at how much I could cross off. I forgot to get a strap for the swag and a pillow until it was too late, so that will need to be done in the morning, along with picking up donuts and Holt the Cow from his other mummy. But that's a pretty manageable list.

Anyway, I've come up with a couple of favourites today. The first is being (nearly) ready. As a huge procrastinator and someone who tends to overly prepare getting organised to go away is always a challenge. I wait till the last minute, and then pack too much stuff. Packing too much last night and then downsizing tonight seems to have worked well though, but I suspect that once again I will be taking way too much food.

My other favourite is taking my ideas a little too seriously. I have a tendency to think of something and suddenly do it. My Official Swag Tester lanyards are a perfect example, but so too was my taking up quilting. I don't know how many people got started by saying, right, I'm gunna learn a new craft and create an example of it good enough to enter into a competition in 4 days time. Luckily I had my weeks wrong and it was actually 10 days time, but I would have had it done on the 4th day if I'd had too. I'm much better at getting organised for the things I thought of 15 minutes ago, than things I listed myself on facebook that I would be attending 15 weeks ago.

And some random favourites too:

Saying "Sad face" instead of actually frowning.

Strapping is so much easier than making an actual strap yourself.

Dan Murphies. Way cheaper than IGA liquor, even without giving you Woolies staff discount.

Telling everybody that I "combed my fur coat" and it not being yet another reference to my girly bits, because I have an actual fur coat.

Using my sewing machine for the first time in ages.

My amazing power cable finding abilities.

The fact that I am going to a BnS ball in about 17 hours time.

The fact that my Mum is dropping me off.

(In) decisions

Surely I cannot be the only person who, faced with an imminent two days away from home, has a nervous breakdown based on what to pack?

It started well. In spite of it being cold, and midnight, and therefore dark, I went out to the shed and managed to find, using only the little tiny torch on my keyring, everything I was looking for, except for the container of little torches you put on your keyring. But I have a spare tent, and my fur coat, and my flannelette underskirts, and the old morning after bag (I'm thinking I might make a new one though) and a rotary cutter and a short ruler and Casey's bit of Case-I-H fabric that I need to make into a cushion for her. I found blank DVDs and CDs, and brought the wrong ones inside, but that's okay. I know where they are for tomorrow.

I came back inside, got started on packing, and had to stop when I realised that it's only for one night, I do not need to take 4 pairs of jeans, and chances are high that I will just wear home whatever is in the morning after bag.

The morning after bag is the best. It's a really little bag, that contains jeans, a shirt, socks and jocks. Very handy when what you've taken off the night before was a floor length wedding dress with masses of underskirt, and you've just woken up in the swag of a boy you only met yesterday. You need quick, comfy and practical, and ball gowns are fur coats are not that.

I may make an unlined/uninterfaced version of the gym bag to shove those into to get back to our spot. My shift for tomorrow night has been cancelled, so I have an extra 5 hours in which to do stuff. It will mean another trip to the shed to find the strapping and fabric I need, but I'm getting better at finding stuff now.

All I got made today were the lanyards.

I've made 6, because that's how many wide ends were in the pack of 10 that I bought, the other 4 being narrow, and my having left the narrow ribbon in the car. There's five of us going, and Mum can have one too, so that will do us. I made us a facebook group too, because that's how I roll. I think the only qualifications you need are to be a female swag owner. I know that's a bit discriminatory, but the clauses are somewhat gender specific, and most girls keep their swags in good condition, so they are natural experts on how a swag should be. Depending on how successful these are this weekend, I may have to make quite a few more. I still have to round off the corners on these ones: I cut them with the rotary cutter and they're quite sharp points. Hopefully the corner cutters they have in the scrapbooking section will do the trick.

Official Swag Tester

Would you like to be an Official Swag Tester?

It's simple: simply print out this image at a width of 8cm, cut out, fold in half and laminate. Cut a little hole in the top, add a lanyard and you now have the perfect, not at all legitimate excuse to climb into the swag of a boy you've just met.

Best of all, if the boy and/or the swag turn out to be something of a disappointment, there's a nice little clause in there that says he owes you beer:

Swags to be tested shall be chosen at the discretion of the tester. The tester may require the assistance of the owner to test the swag, and this assistance may be required for tasks such as unrolling the swag, checking the fit of multiple occupants and the swag's suitability as a mating location. Swags which are clean and in good condition will be highly marked. Extra marks will be awarded based on the appearance of the owner and vehicle on, in or near which the swag is situated. Marks are deducted for patches of damp or dirt, holes or torn blankets and the presence of long forgotten clothing and/or used protection in the base of the swag. The presence of spiders or rodents is an automatic fail. Should your swag be deemed unfit for use, you will be fined a can of beer or equivalent, or a greater penalty at the discretion of the Official Swag Tester. All decisions are final, and correspondence will not be entered into, unless we think you are cute and decide to add you as a friend on Facebook.

Tomorrow, I have to print out a dozen or so of these (half will doubtless get stolen) and then laminate them at work tomorrow night. Nothing else on my to do list has been done, but no matter. I am an Official Swag Tester now. That's the important thing.

Offical. Really.

I have had a plan. I'm not sure how I'm gunna go about putting my plan into fruition in the next 3 days around work and all the other shit that needs getting done, but oh well. Some plans are so magical they come about on their own, like they were destined too, without any help from mere mortals like you or I.

I need a t-shirt, or perhaps just a badge, maybe a card on a lanyard would suffice, that says "official swag tester" then, at the BnS, any cute boys, I will point to my shirt/whip out my badge/hold my little card in their face and tell them I need to test their swag. And I need their assistance to do so.

The best part about this plan is, I can do it in the afternoon, before the ball even begins, and if their swag really isn't up to scratch, I'll hand them a fine for two beers and then go find myself another swag to test. And if it's a lovely swag, and a lovely boy, well, I can't think of a better conversation starter than, "well, since we're both here in this excellent example of swagness, what are you doing for the rest of the evening?*" It's genius.

But you know what's even better? Mum is coming with us. MY MUM! Is going to be dropping us off at a BnS Ball. (insert excited squealing here)


*You is only an acceptable answer if he's really cute.

dot dot dot comma question mark

My room is painted and I just re-hung my curtains all by myself. Alas, still no bed or sewing machine, but tonight should be my last night in my swag till Stonerollers BnS on Saturday. And even then, a girl can hope for a sea of invites to other swags, preferably the kind containing hot, naked cowboys. I'm getting sick of my swag, and it's distinct lack of hot naked cowboys.

Tonight I should have many many trippy and interesting dreams, sleeping as I am in a room full of paint fumes. Obviously, my anosmic little self can't actually smell them, but I've already decided to attribute my complete inability to type to them. Is that a known side effect of inhaling paint fumes? Typos? Well, it is now.

Wading through the typos, I have written up the instructions to make a gym bag like mine. But I have no sewing machine to make another bag to take the accompanying photos. Or, if I'm honest, any time to make the bag to take the accompanying photos. Three 9 hour days, then a short day during which I also have to clean out and pack my car, find my clothes including the ball gown and the fur coat in the sea of tubs in the shed, get my legs done* sort out food and grog, charge up all the phones and the laptops and the cameras and the walkie talkies, get petrol and wash my hair.

Just as well my swag's been checked out then, isn't it? I don't even know when I'm gunna find time to scratch.

*according to the girls at work, referring to my beaver as "free range" is one of the funniest things I have ever said. Actually, it might be one of the funniest things anyone's said, ever, according to one of them, but I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just because it's the complete opposite end of the spectrum - indeed, I cant think of anything less funny than having all the hairs on my vajayjay ripped out. And it's one less thing to have to worry about getting done.

Viva la Revolución

My mother has decided we can wait till my room has been painted to put my furniture back in here. Granted, it hasn't been painted in the 17 years since it got a lick of light grey undercoat, but oh well. I like light grey undercoat, but apparently, after 17 years, it must be "under"

In retaliation, I have chosen a slightly darker shade of grey as my paint choice. I've also decided, in lieu of sleeping in yet another bed I don't like, to bring in my swag.

And my flop chair. And a powerboard, for the essentials. Mum hid the router behind the curtain, for reasons that aren't immediately apparent.

As far as a quarter life rebellion goes, it's not much. I still don't have a sewing machine either, which is especially annoying considering I'm filled with a near overwhelming urge to get the two part-done bags finished, and start on a third (which I will need to find the fabric for - it being in a tub somewhere) but at midnight on a Sunday night, after a busy 9 hour day, it's the best I can muster.


Viva la Revolución? No thanks, I want my real bed back.

Losing it.

Mum has decided we will get these carpets properly cleaned before we put the furniture back in, so yet again I'm without a bed. Well, that's a lie, I'm sharing Maddy's bed with Casey, and she snores like a freight train. Or sometimes like a chainsaw. One time it was like a motorbike. But you get the idea. Last night, to combat it, I stayed up till about 4am safe in the knowledge that I would be so tired I would fall asleep in spite of the noise, and I could sleep in once she'd gone to work at 7. But tomorrow I start work at 12, which is late by anyone's standards, except of course mine. Or those of the nightfill boys. Some might say the nightfill boys have no standards, and they wouldn't be too far wrong.

Because I'm working all afternoon and most of the evening tomorrow, I just have to hope that some nice parent or sibling puts my bed back while I am at work. I'm losing it without my bed.

I miss you, bed.

My favourite thing today is my bed. And annoyingly, it's one of those "don't miss it till it's gone" favourites. See, tomorrow (in about 7 hours, actually) a man is coming to put in some new carpet in my bedroom. Since it's nearly 1am now, that means he'll be getting here at 8am, and since I don't really wake up till lunchtime normally, that posed a bit of a problem, rectified of course by moving my bed out to the bar in little (well, actually quite big, really) pieces, and me sleeping in my sister's room. But for me, my bed is not just for sleeping on. As a queen sized bed in a quite small and full room, most of my living takes place on the bed. I use my laptop on the bed, design bags and quilts on the bed. Watch movies on the bed, eat snacks on the bed, read books on the bed. My bed is my place. And while I may have carped on a bit a few weeks ago about how your watch or your handbag says something about you, there is nothing more in tune with a person than a single gal's bed. I'd make a conservative guess that I spend fully half my time on that 2m², and it fits me perfectly, from the little dent I've made in the mattress to the exact weight of the quilts (a polyester quilt and a comforter that came from lincraft ages ago inside the one eiderdown cover, and 4 of my quilts on top of that) that I like. Also, my tendency to wake up at a 90° angle to what I went to sleep at, stretched full length along the pillows. My cushion that I cuddle, as well as Mo the Sheep, Alex the Monster and Eleanor the Elephant. And of course my electric blanket. I really really love that.

Other things I love right now:

Ventalin.
KFC Potato and Gravy.
Cadbury Fingers.
External harddrives.
Facebook chat and messages being the same thing now.
Barrette hair clips.
Jeans day at work.
Chocolate Mudcakes.
Putting a bandaid on a broken nail when you can't find a nailfile.
Laminators.
Dragging new tabs to the tab bar in Firefox.
Playing Bejeweled on a touchscreen.
Bundy White Lemon and Lime.

Cleaning still.

The closer I get to the end the harder it is becoming. That makes sense I suppose, since you leave the hard bits till last. Most of what's left I could probably just shove into an enviro bag and into the cupboard, but It's a mix of important stuff that I want to remember the location of, and unimportant stuff that I forgot to put with the rest of the unimportant stuff, or didn't come across until it was too late to do so.

Also, there are cables. Lots and lots of cables. I'm a bit ashamed to say I'm running four powerboards and 3 double adapters in my bedroom. I know it's an electrical risk, but this bedroom was built before laptops and mobile phones and routers and two sided electric blankets and me owning two digital cameras and handheld computer* and two tablets and a sewing machine and an alarm clock. I'm pretty sure originally it ran two bedside clocks and two bedside lamps. When I get the bookcase, I will need to chop a hole in it where the powerpoint is.

Tomorrow we have to take out the furniture and put it out in the bar. Becky has cleared out already because she's mainly living at Todd's these days anyway, but Casey and I need to get our stuff out still. The man comes at 8 Saturday morning, and will apparently be tearing out the old carpet before he puts the new stuff in. That's a big relief to me, since the carpet I have now really, really, really likes pins. I spent about an hour picking them out, but I still probably only got half of them. They burrow in though, so you almost never get them in your feet. I think I might put one of my little quilts underneath the sewing cabinet when we get the new carpet so I can just wave my magnet over it and they will all get picked up.

I've also decided to get rid of my magazine collection, although the initial attempt nearly killed me, but not for the reason you may think. See, I put them all in a big bag on the bed, one of those woven plastic ones you get at Cheap as Chips, and then I went to lift it. And then when it turned out to weigh as much as, if not more than me, I fell off the bed. As if the runny nose and asthma attacks weren't bad enough, this cleaning malarkey is trying to get me any way it can. I've since split them into four much more manageable enviro bags. For those of you who were interested, there were some beading magazines, lots of old issues of Empire magazine and the first two dozen or so issues of Top Gear magazine. When I get my new shelves, I will need that space for fabric.


*actually, I have two of these too, but since they're identical, I only have the one charger.

Pollen.

This morning (well, this afternoon) when I went out to my car, it was faintly yellow. Lots of other stuff happened today too (in fact, today was so long that it feels as if the slightly yellow car was days ago), but most of it is unimportant. What is important though, is that the trees know that spring is coming. It may only be 6°C out there at the moment, but it's only a matter of time till it's nice and warm again. Granted, between then and now there will be plenty more cold nights, lots of snotty tissues and about four bottles of Demazin, but no matter. At some point in the not to distant future, it will be warm again.