survive « Robin Writes

Well, you might say I’m getting a bit discouraged . . . just a bit. Here’s a rundown on the properties we looked at last Monday:

The first one had a house. It was cute on the outside, good layout on the inside—the bright blue walls in what would be my office would be the first thing to be changed. Hmmm. It had, not a walk-in closet, but a walk-THROUGH closet, which was interesting. A huge yard/garden space, and the rest of the acreage went up the hill and into the woods. Not too bad.

There were a couple outbuildings, but sadly too dilapidated to be functional—and that included the very old log cabin.

However. All we could hear were the baying of the hounds. The neighbors’ hounds. That would last about ten seconds for me. No, no, and no.

The second property was all woods. And vertical. Moving on . . .

The third one was awesome! Near the Black River, turn onto a private drive/electric easement; there were four property owners back this road, and only one who lived there. We met him. Super nice guy, once he stopped shooting.

Okay, I’ll explain that:

The property had two sections, one on each side of the easement road. The lower portion was about seven acres, surrounded by trees and bordered on the back side by a creek and then the county road. Electric, well, etc. Nice meadow and a grove of trees in the middle.

The upper section had a road going to the top of a hill, with a level area about halfway up and a wildlife pond. That’s when we heard the shots.

So we decided discretion was the better part of valor and we walked back down the road to the gate. That’s when we met the neighbor. Seven feet tall, I swear. He was very cordial and welcoming, told about the other property owners, talked about the area.

I still don’t know what he was shooting at . . .

Anyway, after we left there, my husband being all excited about this possibility, our agent called—there was a contract on the property. Dammit. Have to say, I’m a little annoyed by the listing agent. He knew this, but sent us out there anyway.

Then our agent called again. Remember the barn property? Word is that the current contract likely won’t go through—and we have a backup contract!

Of course, the bank is being iffy, when I can reach the guy, but there are ways . . . and we’ve signed the offer papers.

So keep your fingers crossed for us—I want to get moving on this and besides, I’m really tired of looking!

Well, first I get up. I mean, doesn’t everyone? Then I get coffee. Again, doesn’t everyone? And then I work—my job, business, whatever you want to call it. All the promo, answering emails, checking my calendar. Oh, and social media and reading the news. Usually I eat breakfast: two slices of bacon.

And take my drugs. Legal ones, that is. Blood pressure meds, because the doc insisted; I did talk him down from 40mg to 20mg. I don’t take everything at once. I’m weird. I space them out. The thought of all of them rolling around in my stomach at once makes me feel a little icky.

And of course, by now, I’ve had a second and maybe a third cup of coffee. Well, my husband doesn’t call the stuff I drink “coffee.” It’s that instant orange cappuccino. Love it. Get crabby without it.

Snack time: homemade granola. In case fish oil—blech— doesn’t bring down my cholesterol. In the summer, I might substitute a smoothie. Not one of those gross “throw all the green crap in the blender” smoothies, but one made with fruit and low-fat frozen yogurt. See, I’m not a complete heathen.

At some point, and I shoot for 9:00 but it doesn’t always happen, I shower and dress. Usually sweats, unless I’m going somewhere, but still. It counts. Oh, if I’m going somewhere? Jeans and boots. I have a reputation, you know.

I do aerobics throughout the day (often while waiting for coffee) and stretches and some special exercises for the parts that are getting creaky. I take a walk as long as the temp is above 32 and I play soccer with the puppy outside. I also walk to the mailbox.

The rest of the my morning is spent answering more emails, messages, filling orders, and editing/formatting. In between, I jump up and do the dishes, make the bed, clean a little, pick up cat and dog messes, etc.

Glamorous and exciting, no? “No” is indeed the correct answer here.

After lunch (leftovers), I often take a nap. I’ve already put in about 6 hours at this point, and I don’t really sleep well at night. I thought I was just being a lazy bum until I tracked my sleep time for a month. Turns out that I get 7 1/2 hours of sleep each day—WITH a nap! Yay, justification!

From 2:00 or 2:30, I drink more coffee, take care of family and household stuff, and then I work some more. I finally, finally got to the point where I try to shut it down by 6:00 p.m. After dinner, we mostly just watch TV, unless I have an event or something. Movies. The fewer rating stars, the better!

During that, I’m usually on the phone, finishing up a few things or texting for a bit. Not much of a bit. Texting tends to annoy me unless it’s a quick note. I do NOT like texting conversations—just call me already!

So that’s the long, extended, boring version of my workdays. Six days a week. The only variation is if I have an errand or two to run, an appointment of some sort, or just feel like doing something different.

I’d like to say, “And on the seventh day, she rested,” but that wouldn’t be strictly true. I try to do “nothing,” but somehow all the daily tasks still fall to me. And while I do write during the week, a couple days at least, Sunday is my blogging day, the day I Google myself to make sure there’s nothing, er, embarrassing out there, and the day we often drive out and look for our future property.

Gee, I sound like an old fogey—Sunday drives! And now that I write it all down, my life does sound extremely dull. So let’s think for a moment. What else do I like to do?

I like to dance. Once in a while, we put on music and pour the wine and dance in the living room. Good luck getting my husband to actually go anywhere to do this. Of course, we’re better at it if we’re drinking, like everyone, right? Unless it’s ballroom—yes, we do ballroom dancing. We took lessons a while back, for a solid year. Our instructor was 90 years old—he could dance circles around me!

I also play the guitar and the organ and do leather crafting. And I garden; well, not right now, but soon! I do a lot of cooking—from scratch—love to cook. I bake and I can or dehydrate the stuff I grow.

Oh, yes, of course I read—I have over 1,000 books, even if the majority of my reading these days consists of manuscripts. But I read books sometimes 2-3 times, and I never, ever give them away.

And I shoot. I can hit the target too. Generally in the center.

We camp often, March through October at least. I like to try to make “regular stuff” over the fire, especially in cast iron. And yes, we camp in a tent. We have firebuckets and a handwashing station—good ol’ Girl Scout training. We hike and sit around the fire and sometimes play our “special” version of a parachute game . . .

So, what do YOU like to do? How do you spend your days?