Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.) (lantichristo) wrote,
Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.)
lantichristo

So many pictures ... so little time ... and a little rumble

I am currently visiting my sister’s home everyday to look after my manic depressive mother and my father who has cancer (if all goes well the surgery will take place on the 24th of August).

Mean while, to keep occupied, I am restoring an old furniture while I am there. It is the table of an old Singer Sewing Machine. My mother got it in, around, 1959.

She wanted to throw it away since it was been used abused and tortured. My late uncle putty coated it with wall putty and then painted it with yellow paint and polished it on top. O_O The condition was, and still is, dreadful. So, when my mom moved here she wanted to throw it away. I had to fight to bring it here.

Two days now I am scrubbing the plastic paint off. Yesterday I decided to take before and after pictures. I don’t have the picture of how it looked the day before I scrubbed most of the paint off, but still there are a couple of stages before it is ready. After I  scrub off all the wall putty and old paint, I use wood putty and then the painting with oil and stuff starts.

How interesting IS this ey? Oh fuck off. It is for me.

I love restoring old furniture. Ever since I was a kid, I would find a piece of wood and make something out of it.

My sister wonders why I don’t throw it away and put all my energy on something else.

That is when I mentally slap her.

My dad poke his nose in my business all day of course, but it is okay. It makes him feel like he is needed and this is a good thing in the stage he is at.

I need a day to take care of my flowers though. Ronnie’s petunia and my wild strawberries are almost wilting.

I need to clean my closet (YES AGAIN I keep on buying shit so I keep on giving to the Red Cross), pick up my old shoes from my favorite shoe-man ( I forgot how you call them, shoe fixer? lol) Great dude. Cheap and good. Very polite. People from Lebanon are usually very sympathetic.  - I think he is from Lebanon … ah who cares.

 

I need to dye my hair too. Pffff I need 48 hours a day. 24 is not enough.

I need a bicycle.

I need a violin teacher.

I need to travel more …

I need my parents to be healthy. So they live long enough to see my sisters kid’s grow. So I won’t be sad when they are gone ... and for now … So that I can get a job.  Babysitting old people is terrible. You can’t beat them. (okay bad joke)

I want to read more. Even though I read every day, on my way to everywhere, even when I walk. Yes, I have discovered that I can walk and read at the same time without bumping on anybody, without stepping on potholes or shit and without stumbling. People naturally make way for you when you walk and read; it is peculiar. Maybe they find it peculiar, so they can but step aside.

I want a dog.

And a cat.

And my sister to get laid so she relaxes a bit.

I MUST visit Antarctica before I die ….

This entry should have been: “Dear Santa Claus… ”

Or in my case: “Dear Pumpkin King … ”

 

Meh …











Tags: dear diary, my father's illness, rumbling
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