Fixing the hole

Suddenly there's a flurry of urgency to fix the hole in my ceiling, caused when a broken roof tile let the rain in and turned the ceiling into a soggy mess and the light into a fizzing danger zone.  This all happened in May.  After the initial stream of tradesmen and insurance assessors the interest in the hole in my ceiling returned to zero.

This didn't really bother me.  Although finding clothes in my wardrobe was like mining underground and applying makeup required a leap of faith, the prospect of living in a space where the ceiling is removed, replaced and painted kept me quiet.

Last week I had some missed calls from the insurer's builder.  It seemed like he thought I was the owner so I referred him to the real estate agent.  A couple of days later, I received an email from the agent asking if it was okay for her to give the key to the guy for a couple of hours on Wednesday morning so he could "do some insurance work".

I knew from the conversation I had with the insurance assessor on the day they made the assessment that the ceiling would need to be removed, a new one put in and the room painted, so I wasn't quite clear about what was going to happen on Wednesday morning.  I called her.  She didn't know anything and told me to speak to the guy.  I did.  He said they needed the room emptied and it would take at least three days to complete the job.

I called her back and repeated what I'd already told her about the works to be done.  Where was all my stuff to go?  Her suggestion was to put it in another room.  I live in a small two bedroom flat where all the rooms are used.  There's no space to just transplant a whole room of furniture and clothing!

Before I head interstate again (which would provide an ideal opportunity to do the works) I need to pack up my small personal items and find somewhere to put them.  This is easier said than done when I have a lot of work on and doing it at night time is challenging because it's dark!  My bedside lamp is designed to create a mood, not a work site.  A local charity will discover a donation of several handbags which I had forgotten I had, so I dusted them off and hope others will appreciate them.  The benefit is an enforced clean out, but the timing is awful.

Apart from these logistics, there's the issue of providing unsupervised access to my home for a bunch of work men whom I've never met.  A friend who has lived through plastering said to be prepared for the whole house to be covered in plaster dust!  None of it is good.  And it's made worse by the fact that the extent of the damage would have been minimised if the agent had done something when I first reported that I could hear dripping in the ceiling!

There's nothing I can do, but embrace the opportunity for a clean out.  Embracing with gritted teeth.

How did I ever have time to work full time?

The question I've been asking myself lately is "how did I ever have time to work full time?"  Seriously.  I don't know how I ever managed to get anything done! How did I ever make anything; read anything; write anything; see anyone; play anything; pay anyone; clean anything; calculate anything? Oh that's right, those last two items I still struggle with.

This afternoon I've been doing my BAS* for the Tax Office so that I can work out how much goods and services tax I've collected for them and pay it back.  It bores me stupid.  For a little while I convinced myself that I loved being systematic and working the fabulous spreadsheet that my more fabulous accountant set up for me.  This afternoon I discovered that I have been lying to myself and to everyone else about this.  I still hate it.  Putting numbers in columns and cross checking the little pieces of paper, with their faded printing, that pass as receipts these days, updating my car usage in my special diary is just so DULL.  Even the thrill of seeing how much money I've earned during the quarter was not enough to make it all shiny and satisfying again.

When I first started out on this business venture, I knew that I would need to have a really easy, uncomplicated and appealing system to use to keep all my records in order.  If I didn't start this way, there was a chance that the tax office would be looking for me a few years in the future and I'd probably be hiding in a cave somewhere because the disarray and volume of paper would just be too much.

That theory was right and I was very diligent early on.  Then I became extremely busy: flying all over the countryside, stopping at home long enough only to wash my clothes and repack my suitcase.  Travel for work generates paper like no other activity I've ever been involved in.  I started this busy period by clipping them all together and putting them aside to be entered into the spreadsheet next time I was home.  I did this a few times until there was a teetering pile.  The pile teetered right off the edge of the table and with another round of travel looming, along with the deadline for lodgement of my BAS coinciding with this time, I knew I had to tackle it today.

For almost three hours, I've sat chained to my desk.  It's done now and the payment is set up and everything, but I don't feel a sense of achievement.  I feel like I've been cheated of quality time I could have spent doing something else more interesting and invigorating.  And now I've started the recriminating conversation with myself. "You can't let it get out of control again".  "Just do it whenever you have a receipt - it's easier to do one or two at the time." Blah, blah, blah.  I know, I know, I know.

The only thing that makes sure I do it is the fear of further tedious conversations with the tax office.  If I could be assured I'd never have to do that again, I'd sit down with my spreadsheet all the time.  Well maybe that's an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.

So today, I've done nothing else. Well I've done a few things.  I managed to do a couple of loads of washing and dry them.  They're now piled on the couch until further notice.  I ate breakfast and lunch.  I've picked up equipment for tomorrow's workshop.  The washing up from yesterday is still sitting in the drainer on the sink.  I have no idea what I'm going to eat for dinner.

Remind me: how did I ever have time to work full time?  I don't know how I ever got anything done!

*BAS = Business Activity Statement

Clash of priorities - which work needs to be done?

Working from home has its dangers and distractions.  Today I had actually planned to do housework.  I like to be able to do this during the week if I have time so I don't spend my weekend doing chores instead of socialising and relaxing.  Occasionally I move beyond planning and I actually do the housework.

After doing a couple of hours of my own administration, I was about to turn to the household administration when the phone rang.  I had to attend to the call.  I finished that and was about to try the washing up again when a call came through on Skype.  I had to attend to the call.  I've just finished that - about five hours later.

In between things, there were urgent work related emails to attend to. (I'll also reveal that I made my moves in a few games of Scrabble that I'm playing on facebook.)  I haven't even looked at Twitter today.

At 6:45pm I have now finished the business-related work and I still have a sink full of dishes.  But I am writing my blog post for the day.  The dishes can wait.

There was a time when my distraction would have worked the other way.  I would have struggled to sit at my desk and do my work as I would  be tempted by a sudden, overwhelming desire to clean the bath or organise the spice rack.  Thinking about this now, I find it unbelievable.

I am living in chaos at the moment, but I'm okay with that.  My business related work is up to date.  I'm not in a panic about the end of the financial year.  My bills are paid.  I know what I have to do.  I take it as a sign of maturity and confidence.  I'd rather my business is successful and cope with some disorganisation at home.  Also, I don't care what anyone thinks about that.

I hope I feel as calm about it tomorrow when I wake up.  Over the weekend, I had been feeling the need to reduce some of the chaos.  The moment it starts to feel like pressure, I know I need to deal with it.  I've also learnt that it's not possible to do everything.  One thing at a time.  Where to start?  Start with what's in front of you.

The only thing I'm annoyed about today is that I missed my walk.  The weather was rubbish this afternoon though, so I'll live with that.  I've accomplished a lot today.  It wasn't what I planned, but it was important.  And now it's done.

Are you easily distracted? What do you do to stay focussed and get your stuff done?

In service

If I could have a servant come to my house every day for an hour, there are many things I would have them do.  I have too many other interesting things to do to stay on top of non-essential housework.  This is where the argument usually starts.  My definition of non-essential is often what others see as core business.

I'm not a filthy pig.  I am untidy.  I have lots of books and music and clothes and I know where everything is.  I'm getting better at having systems in place to stay on top of my paperwork - going electronic with as much as possible has been a lifesaver.  And I suffer from a lack of cupboard space.  Some would say it's not the lack of cupboard space that is the problem, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't have more books than I may ever finish waiting for me to pick them up.

Some people see tidying as essential housework.  That's on my non-essential list.  Unless I have friends visiting.  I am an artiste at making things look like the artistic clutter of a creative, crafty, musical, intellectual type.  That's what I tell myself anyway.  Most people would probably consider I'd be a great candidate for some reality TV show that has untidy, interesting people at their dramatic heart.  Nothing like the voyeurism of other people's shortcomings to make other people with the same shortcomings feel superior and entitled to judge.

On the essential list are things like keeping the toilet clean.  Very important.  I've even received compliments.  Never letting the washing up go for more than two days, even though I have enough crockery to last for weeks.  I can't let myself think like that; it could be the road to ruin. My clothes and linen are washed, dried, sometimes put away and ironed if required.  The bins are emptied regularly and the bathroom hand basin is kept clean.  The fridge has a good rotation of food.  Nothing mouldering in there.  I make my bed everyday.  An unmade bed is another direct path to damnation.

And that is probably the end of the essential list.  Judge me if you wish.

So what would the servant do in their daily hour?

1. Clean the oven.  You can do that in an hour right?  I usually pay someone at the end of tenancy.  It seems like such a redundant activity.

2. Vacuum.  I do vacuum but probably not as often as I should.

3. Dust.  What is the point?

4. Wash the floors, walls and windows.  I do the floors and windows, again not often enough.  I've never done the walls.  People do, I hear.

5. Clean the car inside and out.

6. Deal with the bathroom and the shower.  I don't use the bath and it attracts filth like you wouldn't believe.  I give the shower a going over while I'm in it, but there are parts of the sliding shower doors that I've never been able to get to.

7.  Clean the pool.  (I don't actually have a pool, so this could present a practical problem.)

They can rest on the seventh day and then start the whole pointless and ridiculous cycle again.

I'll be putting my energy into plumping cushions, alphabetising my CD and DVD collections and shredding documents.

All of this is evidence as to why the quest to reclaim my spare room has stalled.  That's what I should get the servant to help with - running my online garage sale through ebay.

Or, I could get them to be even more useful.  How about a massage?  My hair is always better with a blowdry.  I sure could use some help getting the red nail polish to go on neatly.  Have you ever tried waxing your own legs?  It's harder than you think.

Now where do I find this multi-skilled, affordable service.  And can they look like George Clooney?