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All Good, All The Time
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B and I discussed our differences and the dynamics, motivations of the last blow-up. We came to an agreement we both can live with. One good thing about both of us being older--we can each see how present behaviors fit into personal past patterns and which adjustments have worked and which haven't, so suggestions for the future have some good possibilities for success.

Another good thing about being older is that we're not naive enough any more to promise, "Never again", but instead to set out boundaries and consequences, a whole different dynamic.

This was the second Event. A third one, and she moves out.

Other good thing is that my computer office room has had the windows installed and the blinds hung. Even before the air conditioner was put in place and there was still a gaping hole in the wall, the lower temperature caused by double-paned windows was quite noticeable.

These second story windows face west, and the setting sun blasts in under the awning, before it finally sinks below the trees in the neighbors' yards. During that time the heat is intense, unbearable--or rather I should say it was. Now, with the blinds closed and the air conditioner running, it's almost pleasant, certainly able to work here.

I'm really happy with my "new" office. Since the contractor grossly underestimated the time it would take, he charged me only 2/3 of his normal hourly fee. I tried to pay full price, but he refused, saying that the discount was for the inconvenience. Did you ever hear of such a thing? I was quite (pleasantly) surprised, since I was prepared to pay more than the estimate, since it took so much longer.

I've been cleaning and sorting, on my hands and knees, reaching and bending and stretching, to put stuff back where it belongs (the contractor had to stack stuff up so it could be sealed under plastic). Can you say, "sweat"?

I'm taking this as an opportunity to straighten out the snarled mess of electrical cords, extension cords, cables, and whatnot behind the computer and under the desk. How on earth does it get that way? And what do you do about it to keep them out of sight and organized? Get a backless under-desk set of drawers or something? [sounds like a description of naughty undergarments]

Suggestions/ideas would be appreciated.

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