Singlutionary's House Kicks Ass!!

Yet again, I am going to postpone posting my not-so-weekly Wednesday homeownership article.

But I did enjoy some raucous laughter tonight with my two remaining -- and very sane and fun roommates. We've taken back the house from Hoggle and we're loving it. It was nice to come home and relax in good company.

The past few weeks have been full of stress and full of wonder at the same time. I have a clarity in my mind and a simplicity in my day-to-day life that I've never quite managed to have before. I eat well and simply and in moderate proportions. I work daily, Monday through Friday, yet I miss the peak traffic rush. My chickens now produce one egg daily amongst the tree of them. And once I week I see my sister, and one a month we see her sister/my best friend.

This has nothing to do with owning a home. But life does feel settled and grounded and easy in a way that it never has before.

Of course last weekend I had a dead cat followed by an evil roommate. And, as always, I have suitors who fall to the wayside, just as the peak my interest.

But everything in life is OK as long as I can just come home to a peaceful, comfortable place with good people and good pets.

I've realized over the past several days, that despite everything, I LOVE having roommates. I never though I would say that. But good roommates become best friends. And multiple roommates create a community. Through my house, I've been able to provide an improved quality of life, not only for myself, but for the individuals that I share it with. And I am super excited about it.

Singlutionary Kicks Crazies to the Curb

Last week I wrote about finding a perfect roommate. And then I went and rented to a psycho. I spent the greater part of the last three days trying to manage said psycho until I finally kicked her out tonight in a whole bunch of Jerry Springer-esqe drama which was followed up by a trip around town trying to buy beer past midnight with one of the awesome roommates.

So. For next week I will write about what NOT to do when looking for a roommate and what to do when you have a crazy one that you need to get rid of (not that I have a ton of experience in this category but I have now kicked one lunatic out in the middle of the night).

Basically, I disobeyed rule #3: Trust Your Gut.

I took one look at this woman and thought: Oh Hell No!

But then I felt bad because she was fat and ugly and I felt like that was petty and judgemental of me to eliminate her based on looks.

The part where I went wrong is here: When you look at a person, you don't usually just see FAT or UGLY. The first thing that you typically notice about a person is their aura, their personality, their energy, their vibes. I know plenty of heavy people who don't look heavy to me. And plenty of less-than-beautiful faces which I would never ever think of as ugly.

This woman was ugly on the inside. Real ugly. She had a negative, ugly, crazy, piece of work demeanor. But I felt bad for judging her so I let her move in.

And immediately began to regret it.

There were so many moments where I could have and should have turned and run in the other direction. But I was trying to be positive. I thought: It is only for one week, how bad could it be.

BAD. Not fear for your life bad. But she definately disrupted my personal peace and the peace of the house. I had immense gut wrenching anxiety all day at work yesterday and today, fearing what I might come home to. She was crazy. Crazy people are scary because you don't know what they're going to say or do.

So the moral of this story is: Trust Your Gut, even if it says things which sound petty and rude. Trust it anyways.

The blessing at the end of this story is that I still have two awesome roommates who rallied around me. And I have two more ex-roommates and a sister who further rallied around me and tried to make me laugh during this whole ordeal. Now that it is over and my house and my roommates and my dog and my chickens are safe, there is plenty of humor in the whole story.

But more importantly, I will never override my gut again!

Moments When it Does Suck to Be Single

I don't have many moments where being single sucks for me. I am not even phased by valentines day, for example. But tonight I had one. It isn't so much about having a shitty experience as a single as it is about having to do horrible something entirely alone and having no moral support or physical support or any kind of support.

So.

My most recent moment where it pretty much sucked to be single:

Moving cat carcass from my driveway.

I really could have used some moral support but nobody was available. Could this have happened if I had a loyal loving husband? Yes. Totally. Loyal loving husbands are not always available either when icky things occur.

But tonight, for the first time in a long time, the following thought went through my head: :I really wish I had SOMEONE to help me deal with this".

This is a BIG cat. I was pulling my car out of the garage. It was dark but I saw something large and fluffy lying across the lower part of my driveway, almost at the street. I got out to investigate and sure enough it was the large cat that poops along my house. I don't mind cats pooping along the side of my house because I am rarely over there and I figure they ought to enjoy pooping in a place that I rarely frequent. So this cat, more like the size of a dog, is dead, at the bottom of my driveway in all his fluffy orange glory with a decent stream of blood flowing from his opened jaw.

I got back in my car and just sat there. I called my roommate to see if the cat had been there when she got home. I called my parents twice -- no answer.

Most of the time I know what to do about a situation pretty much immediately but this one had me stymied.

So I finally maneuvered out of the driveway, around the giant dead cat and went to the grocery store, thinking the whole time: "What are the logical steps to take in this situation."

I was pretty sure that moving a giant dead cat is a fairly unpleasant task.

I had gone through the dead pet process at Thanksgiving time with my roommate's hamster. But this isn't MY dead cat. I felt wrong moving another person's dead cat. But I also didn't want the cat's young owners to find it lying there in the morning. I also didn't want a neighbor to think that I had carelessly run over their cat while backing out of my driveway.

At a certain juncture, I finally quit freaking out, summoned my inner grown up, found an old towel and a big cardboard box and approached the dead cat.

And that is when I thought: "I really wish I weren't single right now. I really wish that there was someone to stand next to me while I try to pick up this giant dead cat carcass and place it somewhat ceremoniously in this empty toilet box."

I ended up having to scoot the cat into the box and then when I righted the box, the cat thumped to the bottom. Oh. It was a fairly awful experience. I then wrote notes to my two next door neighbors inquiring as to the ownership of the big orange cat. I did not put in the note that their beloved Garfield was now resting in peace in a cardboard toilet box with a cement block on the top to keep out the possums and stray dogs.

And that was my Saturday night Singlutionary adventure.

Singlutionary's Bath

Today is Wednesday and according to my new posting schedule, today's post should be part of the Singlutionary's House series. But in celebration of cutting myself some slack and wanting to catch up on my blog roll before it rolls off the face of the earth, I'm not going to do that.

Instead I'm merely going to tell a story. Not about remodeling or any kind of home improvement related metaphor regarding my bath, but literally about bathing in my bathroom.

I moved into the master bedroom in my house last week but tonight is the first time I took advantage of having my very own shower. I'd been reluctantly using the toilet in the master bedroom while still preferring the hall potty which had been my own personal throne for the past year and a half. And for the past week and a half I've been rejecting my private shower and going all the way upstairs to bathe.

Why? Blood, sweat, tears and multiple coats of eco-friendly paint have gone into both the upstairs bathroom and the hall bath. Over the past 2.5 years I have truly made them mine. So while the master bath has a window (the others do not) the other bathrooms are a window into my soul.

I just compared a bathroom to my soul. But seriously, I spent over an hour picking out the water saving shower head. And DAYS painting and decorating.

Anyways.

Tonight I finally decided it was time for me to grow up and use my own bathroom. I've been forcing myself to break my habits and use the master bathroom toilet. Tonight I took it a step further and moved into the shower. No, I didn't make a bed in the bathtub. I went upstairs and gathered up my soap and shampoo and other scrubbie things and brought it all downstairs. And then I did something I've never done before: I took a shower in the master bathroom.

And it wasn't as scary as I thought. I spent a bunch of time trying to find some temporary cover for that window because it was freaking me out but I finally gave up. I turned on both lights and left the door to the bedroom open so I wouldn't feel so trapped.

It turns out that it is nice and bright and clean in there and not creepy at all. I can spread out my bottles of various products without concern for other people's things. The shower head may not be a window into my soul, but it is quite adequate with different settings for water velocity. But the best part is that once I was done with my shower I was able to reach out and grab my towel from the hook without having to contort my body into any weird positions.

And then I was able to finish getting ready for bed all in the SAME ROOM. I didn't have to then dry myself off, run downstairs, go into the hall bathroom to moisturize and then go into my room to get dressed. Everything was RIGHT there. I have a new appreciation for the layout of my house now. This master bedroom setup is really very convenient.

Usually at about this juncture in a post I would find a way to tie this whole story together into some sort of parable about being single. But not tonight.

I realize that I am working full time while looking for a full time job, trying to find a renter and running around town collecting the dregs out of all my bank accounts in an attempt to pay the bills before they're late.

Fortunately, I've started earning money again, got a mini promotion at my temp job-- which boosted my self esteem after being fired from my last job for being "rude and disrespectful" and having an "impatient personality"--, will be paid in a week, have two job interviews this week and one for next week and am generally in good spirits.

So. The moral of this story is this: Master bathrooms are awesome.

And so is working for a living. It is truly underrated.

Oh and Kahnee over at Single and Blessed posted about my Singlutionary's House series and posted her own house to-do list this week:

http://conb1977.blogspot.com/2010/01/color-me-copy-cat.html

Singlutionary's Guide to Letting Yourself Off the Hook

For the New Year I came up with a schedule and a plan to manage my time better so that I could post more often! After one week and one day, I realize that it is time for a revision!

So Tuesdays will continue to be Singlutionary's Guide to Whatever day. But some Tuesdays I am going to let myself off the hook and merely post the topic for the NEXT week.

So. Next Tuesday I'll post Singlutionary's Guide to Finding Badass Roommates, Part 1: Renting out a Room.

To be followed on another Tuesday this month by: Part 2: Renting a Sweet Pad in a Peaceful House.

Today I am letting myself off the hook. There isn't one good reason that I should do this. There are lots of small reasons and I'll list them here:

Yesterday I was surprised by a phone call from someone investigating my ex and I had to deal with that situation and rehash that whole shitstorm. Of course, when the shitstorm was over, I had risen from the asses (ashes) as The Singlutionary, so on some level I have to be grateful for the experience but I still felt shaken, remembering how I was ready to commit the rest of my life to this psychotic neurotic liar.

I am flat broke which is putting me on an awesome diet where I have to eat all the healthy stuff in my cabinets that I have been avoiding eating for the past year.

All my roommates are moving or have moved out and I don't have any new renters yet (but I know that I will-- I always do). But change is good.

I've had one job interview so far with a woman that I liked at a property that was OK but I know that I do not want the job and I suspect that it will not be offered to me.

I've been working a regular work week this week doing temp work. I call depressed people and interview them to see if they qualify to be in a research study. Most of them fail to qualify. This job makes me so grateful for every little thing in my life and for being able to be happy and being able to see through the fog when I am not.

One of my former roommates has declared bankruptcy.

Last night there were Possums under my chicken coop. Fortunately my new room is at the back of the house near the chickens so I'll be able to hear if anything goes wrong tonight. But I hope that by the time I hear the squawking, I'm not too late!

It is already 10pm and I still need to read my blog roll!

Moving into the Master

This past week I moved. I didn't move very far-- just from one room down the hallway from another-- but it was a move none-the-less.

One of the ways I make ends meet is to rent out cute furnished rooms in my house. Last week, a longstanding roommate moved out-- she had rented the master bedroom from me before I began renting out furnished rooms-- and I had been sleeping, for a year, haphazardly, in the room which used to be my office. It was never a permanent situation and I never put it together. I rented out cute furnished rooms but I kept for myself a room which looked very much like a half-assed storage area/art studio/office/dog room. It was cluttered and it was crowded and it was a mess.

This week I finally moved into the master bedroom. Finally. So much space. My own bathroom. A walk-in closet.

The funny thing is that I have no bedroom furniture. Most of the stuff that was being stored in the first room was linens and art which ended up staying in there. I merely scooted my airbed down the hall and I was pretty much done.

In some ways I moved from one impermanent space to another. One day I will move out of this room and this house and start over again. But life feels so different. Moving is always a fresh start, even if just down the hall. And now there is breathing space, space to grow. I have the remaining artwork that I've collected leaning up against the walls in my new room, waiting to be hung. Stuff from the shared bathroom is now sitting my bathroom the counter, waiting to be sorted. Nothing is settled yet, but it is tidy and it is somehow incredibly beautiful in this transitional way.

I never thought I needed the master bedroom before. I didn't need that much space for just me when I could rent it out for income instead. Maybe a part of me was waiting for a partner to share the master bedroom with. Houses like mine are built for a traditional married couple to occupy the master bedroom with space for their growing family in the secondary rooms. A master is big enough for two, so isn't it just a waste of space for only one?

Since buying the house I have become the master of my home. I have stopped waiting, in small subconscious ways, to be partnered before beginning my life. So it makes sense that I would quit living in a secondary room and move on into the master bedroom.

I am taking up more space in other parts of my life too. For so long I have been holding this extra space empty, waiting for someone to come and and fill it. I remember for so long, sleeping only on one side of my queen bed, practicing to share it with a partner. In so many small ways I have not been taking up the space in my own life, leaving an empty area for someone else to fill. One side of the bed it only a few feet but it is a huge emptiness.

My life is big and I am going to grow into it. I have filled this whole house with peace and positive people and and I am going to fill my life outside of this house with the same.

I was always afraid that by filling up my own life to the brim, I was eliminating the possibility of having a partner. Maybe I am. But maybe life is big enough and flexible enough to continue to expand. And maybe living a masterfully awesomely big life is the ONLY way for me to find a suitable partner.

Either way, I'm just glad that there's no more wasted space! And excited to put together this last little corner of my home.

Wednesday Homeowner Series: Singlutionary's House

Every Wednesday I'll be posting on a topic related to homeownership. Sometimes I'll write about buying a home and sometimes I'll write about fixing a home and sometimes I'll just tell stories about owning a home. If you have a specific question you'd like me to try and address please email me or comment.

Homeownership isn't for everyone. There is nothing wrong with being a life-long renter. I am not of the opinion that people who rent are not "grown-up". You can be a Singlutionary and live in a tent or an apartment or a hotel penthouse. Whether you rent or own does not affect your awesomeness.

I have a house. And I am single. So that is what I am going to write about right here, every Wednesday: Homeownership from a single woman's perspective.

I've been slowly coming into my own in the past two years as a homeowner. I always wanted to have my own house, am fascinated with real estate, with buildings and with the spaces people live in. Basically, I love home. I'm a homebody.

Two and a half years ago I finally bought a house. The funny thing about buying a house is that it seems like this great accomplishment. I felt like I had made it. I had joined the ranks of the land holders.

But the real work had just begun.

Owning a home is a responsibility and a commitment and an ongoing learning experience. And it is a big one. A big huge one. Traditionally, couples bought a house when they were ready to start a family. My parents went that route. But somehow I never got the memo. I never thought that it was strange that I, a single woman in my 20s, would buy a four bedroom single family home all on my own. I didn't stop to think that it might be easier to keep up a house and a garden if there are TWO people instead of just one. I just new what I wanted. And I knew that had always wanted it.

Shortly after I bought the house I became so overwhelmed that I became emotionally paralysed. I remember going over to a friend's house with my sister and staring at the TV, feeling totally incapable of moving or making any decisions about what to do next. I felt literally frozen in place. I was completely overwhelmed but I couldn't even articulate what was wrong. I wasn't depressed. I was just terrified.

When I bought the house, I thought I'd have it in the shape I wanted it to be in within a few months. I knew everything I wanted to do and in my mind's eye, I could see how beautiful it would all be when done. It has taken two and a half years to accomplish 75% of my original to-do list. Two and a half grueling, no-time-to-socialize, paint-splattered clothes, project cluttered years that I wouldn't give back for the world.

Unless you move into a place and have a TON of money and about a month off work to go shopping, meet with contractors and have your entire life turned upside down, it is going to take a while.

Unless your house is brand new. But even then . . . .

Even if you buy a condo . . .

And then, when you get your house into that perfect condition that you've always dreamed of, something goes wrong. And it usually costs a heck of a lot of money to fix it.

For me, a house is not only a home but a sanctuary. It is also a work of art. I consider myself a homemaker. It just so happens that I make a home for myself, my dog and my roommates instead of for my spouse and children. Still, the amount of time and thought and energy and grace that I put into creating a home is immense.

My home is an extension of me. It is an expression of myself. I want it to be clean and beautiful and peaceful because I want to bring clarity and beauty and peace into the world.

I am also very critical of my house. I see everything that is wrong with it. I see the tiny spots where the paint isn't perfect and I see the lack of landscaping in the front yard and I see the books, unceremoniously dumped on the bookshelf and the old aluminum windows that are SO inefficient. There are so so so so so so so many of these imperfections that others don't even notice but which nag at me every day. When I first moved in, there were so many things that needed to be done that I simply couldn't pick which one to start with.

But somehow I got through my new homeowner stupor. And I got down to business. I needed to learn fast and be strong if I was going to figure this all out.

So I started learning. Something broke and I figured out how to fix it. I learned to start thinking about how the plumbing works and how the air conditioner works and how screen doors work and which things can be fixed by a quick trip to Lowe's and which things need more than one set of hands to fix and who to call for what. A big part of owning a home is problem solving. And for me, it was also problem solving on the cheap.

I'm still learning-- often the hard way. There is no "done" when it comes to life or home ownership. If the building is still standing, there is work to be done.

This house, and all that is represents, and the people it shelters is a big part of my life.

So on Wednesdays I'll be sharing my struggles and my triumphs and my frustrations. And answering any question you might have to the best of my ability!

My Toilet Era Comes to a Close

This year I've successfully removed and installed 3 toilets. I think I'd like to put that on my Christmas card right next to a picture of me and my dog and Santa. Or maybe me and my dog and Santa can be sitting ON the toilet. The recipients of this proposed xmas card may poo themselves in confusion and/or glee (depending on their own awareness of my new found expertise as an amateur plumber). 

Slowly but surely I am becoming my own expert at Singlutionary home improvement. I've always loved figuring out how things work and taking things apart but I never thought I'd become my own handywoman. But being an unemployed home owner has left me without many other options: I've had to figure out how to do it and do it on my own because paying someone to do it simply wasn't an option.

In January, included in the new incarnation of this Singlutionary blog, will be a weekly post on do-it-yourself homeowner projects. I've been asked before to write about homeownership for single women-- or singles in general (and I've been trying to get to it) but in addition to offering advice on the home buying process and the basics of home ownership, I'll also write about how to fix/replace/improve stuff on your own. I think that most single people feel intimidated by tackling projects on their own (especially since many projects require more than two hands and who knows if anyone will be around in that moment of desperation when you realize that you need someone to hold this while you drill that) and with a single income, it is sometimes impossible to just hire someone to do all the work.

Buying a house is something I did without even thinking about the fact that I would have to take care of it all on my own. My desire for homeownership would wait for no man. In fact, it never occurred to me that I ought to wait to buy a home until I was "settled down" or in a relationship. But once I bought the house, I started to realize why domestic chores are divided so clearly down the gender line: there is too much work for one person. Or so it seemed at first. How was I supposed to keep up with cleaning and the yard and also fix the sink and also take out the garbage and also paint the ceilings and also decorate on a budget? How was I supposed to set up beds and move sofas and fix the garbage disposal all on my own? 

But after two years, I've finally got things under control (with a little help from my friends and plenty of frustrated phone calls to my veteran do-it-yourself parents). Yet, I am still the only single female home owner I know and, aside from one inspirational friend who actually is a professional handywoman, I am the most capable person I know. When I began Singlutionary, I was the only non-seeking single that I knew. And now I have a whole community. I hope that by writing about homeownership/repair/improvement for singles, a wonderful community of joyful home owning Singlutionaries will grow.

So, one day a week in 2010 will be committed to the single homeowners and the wannabe single homeowners of the Singlution.

I'll write from my own experience and be sure to mention at the beginning, when and where in the process a second sent of hands would be ideal or, in fact, necessary. And I'll try to make it funny. So, even if you live in an apartment or a condo or a tent, you'll be entertained. At least a little bit. 

Maggots, Money and Magic

This morning I got up late but refreshed. The weather here is suddenly cool and has been rainy for a couple weeks. I was finally able to turn off the AC and just let the house sit here, uncooled and unheated. 

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. And while I was sitting there, I noticed a maggot trying to find someplace to live/eat/breathe in the baseboard.

Usually when there is one maggot, there is a whole family of them, writhing across some otherwise clean surface trying to find a new home. I am not ashamed to admit that this is my 3rd experience with a maggot migration. The first was over a year ago in my kitchen. It happened while I was cleaning (I run a fairly tight ship in terms of cleaning so I see the maggots as a sign that I live in harmony with nature not that I am a lousy housekeeper). The second was at Bosslady's where they blended in almost perfectly with the tile. I spent a full 60 minutes spotting and chasing down maggots with a dustpan and then dumping their small writhing remains off her deck.

There a lot of things which fail to disgust me: poo, pee, jiz, blood and bugs. But maggots, barf and worms freak me out at least a little bit. Barf especially. 

Anyways, since I'm not squeamish about spiders or roaches or insects in general, I am typically the level headed person who removes them. To put it in archaic cultural terms: I am the man in the family. So today, as I calmly (but with slight disgust) tracked down and swept up little maggots as they made their mad-dash to someplace, it didn't even occur to me that I was doing this alone. And, once I had collected all the maggots, I proceeded directly outside where I fed them to the chickens. This caused great delight amongst the foul and I was particularly pleased with myself for turning maggots into marmalade.

There is something to be said about HAVING to do things. At my job, I interact with a lot of people who don't have to work, don't have to clean and don't really have to do much with their lives. More often than not, these folks are walking disasters. If I didn't have to wrangle maggots, I most certainly wouldn't. If I didn't have to clean the occasional dog barf from the floor (nearly causing me to barf in the process), I wouldn't do that either. Last time my house was invaded by maggots, I was horrified, disgusted and thoroughly freaked out. I felt that there was something wrong with my entire life because a) I had maggots and b) I had nobody to help me with them. 

If I had money I could at least, theoretically, hire somebody else to deal with the maggots although by the time any hired maggot eliminator arrived, the maggots would have found themselves a nice warm place to feed and breed. 

For a long long time I had an escape fantasy that some hot rich white dude in a porsche would ride into my life and we would tear off into the sunset burning fossil fuels as if there was no tomorrow. (For some reason, in this fantasy, the guy was never as douchey as I just made him sound). Then I read this book which I can't remember the title or the author of but it was about how to be a successful (and typically single) business woman and the things which typically hold women back. One thing the author mentioned was that most women have an escape fantasy about money - - especially when you're a risk taker who is constantly putting all her money, soul and guts on the line to build her own business. My escape fantasy has always been some variation on the classical prince charming. 

Of course prince charming never had to deal with lowly things like maggots and menstrual cramps. 

Lately I've been struggling to pay off a credit card which charges me 30% interest. Ugh. I have a ton of debt and it all came from putting my heart and soul on the line to pursue my dreams. I don't regret a cent of it. And now that I have a (somewhat) good job, I am able to make steady payments. But the debt doesn't disappear overnight. 

Many people have encouraged me to just ask my parents for the money to pay off this credit card and then I can pay them back at 15% but I was too proud to do it. Yesterday, against my better judgement, I emailed my parents asking if I could postpone some debts that I have to them in order to take care of this card. I got a lecture! It was humiliating. I should never have asked. 

But before I got the lecture, I went to the grocery store to spend my last $30 in the world. And that is when I realized:

It is the limits that make life interesting and make us who we are. My life is not limited in such a way that it is impossible for me to grow or live or thrive. I am not impoverished nor am I uneducated (despite the fact that my education seems to be pretty meaningless when it comes to my salary). And so far in life, I have done a pretty good job of rescuing myself. 

I've paid off credit card debt before. And the times when I had the least money were the times where I had to be most creative. In our culture we have this concept of the "starving artist". I have chosen to reject that notion. I believe that I can live a creative life and (eventually) become self employed doing creative things without having to be destitute and dysfunctional. I don't see pursing my creative endeavors and having money as being mutually exclusive. 

But as I have slimmed my life down past the point that I thought it could be slimmed, I've gotten better at certain things. I've gotten better at maintaing relationships, at writing, at being organized about pursing my goals. Life suddenly seems more simple.

Which makes me wonder: is the artist starving because she is an artist or is the artist an artist because she is starving? I think it might be a little of both.

Having no spending money takes away the distractions. I can't simply be entertained nor can I simply be fed. I have to take the time to nurture myself, think for myself, entertain myself and find creative ways to give and be gracious to others. I have to find alternative ways to build a chicken coop and to feed my chickens. 

The last time I paid off massive credit card debt I wasn't being charged 30% interest. But it still was a miracle. Back then I had a car payment and a long commute and many other obstacles. I worked hard but still, the amount of money I paid off compared to my income and my expenses was just short of miraculous. 

I will get out of debt again. And the road won't be void of pleasure. I won't be zooming through it in Prince Charming's Porsche and I might step in some poo and be chased by maggots. But when I arrive at the castle, it will be all mine and I'll know enough to be grateful for it. And my chickens can roost in the towers while the dog herds sheep out in the pastures. 

And then I'll buy a hybrid and a ranch in west Texas. And I'll be off again on a new journey.

*This post was inspired, in part, by my Cockatiel friend who has always found a way to live her dreams and has never once accepted anything short of being her (delightfully tall) self but who still wouldn't mind having a date to the ball or a Mr. Art Deco on her arm (just as long as she doesn't have to get married to him and produce his offspring).

It turns out that I do have single friends who read this blog after all.

Blog Crawl Goes (Went) Out with A Bang: Day 7 Bella on Onely

So much for catching up today. 

Things I did do:

• Cleaned the downstairs of my house
  
• Organized and cleaned my room to pre-life-upheaval state
  
• Waited around for potential roommate who never showed (typical)
  
• Met up with my sister, ate deli sandwiches, got lots of peppercorns stuck in my teeth, made very tart lemon ice cream from scratch
  
• Put coolant in my chronically overheated, coolant leaking car
  
• Ate healthy (except for the ice cream)
• Finally felt not-hung-over (I will never drink purple margaritas again)
• Showered, twice
• Laundry including dog laundry (dog bedding which is totally gross to wash) and ironing
• Let the chickens out and gave them a quarter of an overly ripe, overly expensive organic mellon
• Made an attempt to figure out how I am going to pay all my bills this month

Things I did not do:

• Clean the upstairs of my house including the upstairs bathroom which desperate needs to be cleaned
  
• Walk the dog
  
• Clean out the chicken coop which is starting to smell a lot like barn
  
• Catch up on the blog crawl
  
• Give myself a pedicure while watching a long neglected netflix
  
• Find a new roommate (which would solve most of my financial issues)
  
• Finish sanding and painting the upstairs hallway
  
• Fix my car
  
• Replace my toilet
  
• Get groceries
  

The last day of the blog crawl was YESTERDAY, soon to be yesterday's YESTERDAY but it still happened. Bella DePaulo of Living Single guest posted on Onely! And that concludes National Singles Week.

I wish that I had been able to more fully participate in the Crawl and in whatever other festivities were taking place. Fortunately, National Singles Week comes around every year and hopefully next year I will be happy and healthy with my head screwed on straight. I will be spending more time tomorrow catching up on blogging, commenting and reading. Fortunately, the posts aren't going anywhere so I can read, digest and comment at my leisure. It was a fantastic experience to be included in this Blog Crawl! Thank you so much to the women at Single Women Rule for putting this together!

Cutting My Singlution Some Slack

I had a 4 day weekend. And I didn't post once. Not once. I thought about Singlutionary. "Singlutionary" was all over my to-do list. I love writing this blog and participating in this online community of awesome happy singles. I have a list in my journal of things that I want to write about. 

I am frustrated because I am a perfectionist. And since going back to work full time PLUS still working with Bosslady part time my perfection level had dropped to complete non-perfection. In my 4 days off I desperately tried to catch up on stuff and only finished half my list. I did clean the house and finish building the chicken coop but I didn't fix my car window or catch up on blogging or even exercise. 

So I've decided to relax my standards. For now, at least.

And as a Singlutionary, I feel that relaxing my standards and cutting myself some slack is an excellent thing to do. Sometimes I expect myself to run my life as if I were a couple. I expect myself to bring home the bacon, cook wholesome meals, look pretty at all times and maintain an immaculately vacuumed carpet. You know how feminists talk about how women work and then they come home to the "second shift" aka housekeeping, child rearing, etc. Well. I have my own second shift, third shift, 16th shift. I expect myself to build chicken coops, work two jobs, fix my own car (which, by the way, is older than I am), eat super healthy organic homegrown and homecooked meals and write every day all the while looking like a lady of leisure with blow dried hair and manicured nails pushed into cute little heels.

Sometimes I think that I forget to take myself seriously because I am single. I forget how much I work or the value of the work that I do. I forget that I am running a household of four and despite the fact that I am biologically unrelated to any of of my roommates, I am still in charge of making sure everyone communicates, is generally happy and has enough toilet paper. I fall into thinking that I live a frivolous life because hey, I don't have a husband and kids so everything must just be easy like giggling while eating marshmallow fluff. Its OK. Every Singlutionary has her moments of non-singlutionary-ness. I forgive myself. 

But it is time to extend a few reminders to my Singlutionary self:

You're just one. This doesn't mean that I'm alone or lonely or that there is anything that I can't do. But it does mean that I can't expect to keep up with the JonesES. One person might be able to do more than half of what two people do but I still can't expect myself to work 50 hours a week AND have a normal life AND fix everything around the house in one weekend.  

You're just one AND you're part of a community: The only reason I was able to complete one of my long incomplete projects (namely, building a chicken coop which is all done save a lack of empty beer cans to tile the roof with --we'll be emptying the beer cans en masse in a few weeks) was with the help of my Habitat-for-Humanity-friend/former-roommate. She liked the chicken coop idea and has worked tirelessly with me to bring it to eggtion (I was trying to play on the word fruition but it didn't quite work). 

You're just one AND you're part of a greater community which you serve through your actions: Singles are often accused of being selfish or self centered by coupled folks. We're also accused of not being grown up. I think that sometimes I let this sneak in and eat away at my Singlution. Sometimes I think that my life is so fantastic that I MUST be selfish and self centered and that since I don't really have anything "serious" to do, I can just get all caught up in my own private and perfect life. 

Well. My life is great. I am so grateful for everything, for this blog, for the communities and friends which do support me, for my new job, for Bosslady, for my dog and for chicken poo. 

But that doesn't mean that my actions or my projects are irrelevant or unimportant. I am attempting to grow my own food not only for myself but to be shared with my roommates and friends. I am getting chickens to assist in pesticide free and organic pest control and to lay fresh eggs which I will not even eat (I'm allergic). I've created a sustainable business model by renting out furnished rooms in my home to people relocating to my fantastic city. I've installed rainwater collection barrels so that I can consume less water during times of drought (and its always a drought down here). 

I'm no Mother Theresa but my ideals and actions are not as much about myself (although I do enjoy my projects immensely) but about creating and sharing a wonderful space with people in-between cities, contributing to the quality of air and quantity of water in my city and basically being a good friend and neighbor. These are my interests and I am blessed to be able to pursue the life that I want to live and to see the things that I do have a small but stealthy impact on the world around me. Just being a joyful, loving person can uplift and inspire someone. 

Lately my volunteer duties have fallen by the wayside as I have had to spend more and more time on the house and then at work. And I've felt selfish. But the stuff that I do is a far cry from spending all day shopping for a new Segway. 

I am at once grateful for the wonderful people in my life and grateful that I can be a wonderful person in other people's lives. 

I still feel angst about the hallway being un-sanded and half prepped for painting six weeks and counting. I still want everything to be perfect.

But as I am learning with my car: as soon as one part is perfect, another part falls off. 

That is life. Its true if your single and its true if you're coupled. And its time I quit resisting and started celebrating this fact.  

Dear Reader: Please take a moment to pat yourself on the back. What do you do with your life that is doing good in the world even in a small, quiet way. How are you, even through doing things you love, unselfish? Where could you loosen up your own self imposed standards of perfection and cut yourself some slack?

Singlutionary Employment

For the first time in years, I have a full time job. For the first time in years, I do not work with total douche bags! I count myself super duper lucky.

Not only that, but today I realized how Singlutionary my job itself is. Let me provide some background on the new job: The job is in apartment management & leasing. I used to be a realtor, selling people homes, so this is a good transition for me. I get a steady paycheck but I still get to sell people homes, just apartments on lease instead of houses on a mortgage. 

I love love love my house. I realized this today. I don't have to pay a pet deposit. I'm not tied to a lease. I can paint the walls and plant a garden and I can park my car on the lawn and wash it. I change the oil in the driveway. None of these things are allowed at the apartment complex that I work at.

But I also miss living in an apartment. I miss the convenience, the simplicity. I miss NOT worrying about painting my walls or my garden or getting home in time to put the garbage out. I miss having a sense of community, of chit chatting with neighbors in the parking lot. I miss being around young single people.

Most folks who live in apartments in my city are young and single. Houses here are fairly cheap compared to other cities. So renters tend to be younger and childfree and single, more or less. 

This particular apartment complex is located in a part of town where fitness is king. There is a smoothie shop, bike shops, running shops and a big ole trail with plenty of eye candy in the vicinity. Its abs-a-go-go. And of course, its summer and everyone is working out their ultra buff bodies with the least clothing possible sticking to their sweaty frames. Kinda gross. Kinda awesome. 

Today, for hours, my sole view was of hot topless guys working out in the on-site fitness center. This is about as close to actual sex as I want to get these days and it counts as one of the major perks of my new employment.

Also, it appears that my co-workers are single. So far, neither one of them has mentioned a significant other. 

But the biggest change, aside from a regular paycheck, is that I'll be working with the public: The single, athletic, apartment renting public! There are fellow potential Singlutionaries everywhere. Because single people who can afford these apartments aren't sitting around waiting for a partner to provide them with the good life: They already have it. And single people who are so busy running the trail and swimming in the springs and biking the greenbelt aren't sitting around pining away for someone to make their life fun and healthy and exciting: It already is!  And if you're living the good life and enjoying your time in the city and on the lake, well, you're NOT going to be a desperate dater. Everywhere I turn there is Singlutionary (and fitness) inspiration. 

Which is not to say that just because you can't afford to live on the park, you're not Singlutionary material. There are Singlutionaries everywhere. But there are places that attract greater numbers of singles and places that attract greater numbers of people who are really living and enjoying their lives. The place I work is one of them. 

And, yeah, there is also free coffee/tea and soda AND a free massage chair. And a greenbelt view from the business center.

Oh bliss. Utter bliss. I work days in a bastion of Singlutionary-ness and I go home at night to my four bedroom house with the brightly painted rooms, chicken and vegetable filled backyard, an over 20lb dog who always gets dog hair all over the sofa. 

I truly have the best of both worlds!