Saturday 20 March 2004

Planning, reorganising

What the holy heck is it with laundry?  It never frigging stops, is what.  Here's how it goes; toss all need-to-be-washed clothes into specially provided colour-coded (black for coloureds, white for well, whites) laundry baskets:  Pile them into the washing machine when there's enough for a full load or two:  Set to wash, do other stuff while waiting:  Lug what weighs approximately three metric tonnes of wet washing up to washing line (a true-blue Hill's Hoist):  Hang washing out, wheel trolley back to the laundry door:  When clothes are dry, take off line, folding as you go, take into bedroom and put away neatly in drawers and hangers (never ever just leaving them piled on the floor for three days oh no neverrrrr).  Job done, satisfying feeling of achievement, yay me.

And then?  You have to go through the whole goddamn process again two days later?  What is it?  I've got alternative lyrics to that kids' film The Neverending Story running on loop in my head (I think it was sung by Limahl or some overly made-up over-dressed creation) (and while the film sucked with its made-for-merchandising flying dog thing, the book was pretty entertaining and an interesting premise) ...

The Neverending Laaaauuuuuuundry

Oh what a craptascular task ...

At least with washing up and cleaning up after a meal, you've had the pleasure of a good feed and a bit of creativity involved in cooking, but laundry?  There's no satisfaction there.  Even ironing has its own kind of Zen transcendental thing going for it but just piling clothes into a machine and then taking them out and folding them all then putting them in the machine again then taking them out and folding them all then ... argh argh argh. 

I need professional help.  Cognitive behaviour modification therapy or something, to give meaning and purpose to this life ... at least so I don't spend four paragraphs whining about laundry.  Yeek.

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As it was so hot today (40C or thereabouts), and since the air-conditioning unit for "our" end of the house broke down yet again, Tuxedo and I had to switch off all the computers and modems in the Batcave* and spent much of the day up in the PUMS' (Parental Unit Melodramatic Society) lounge room.  Its very nice up there, a new efficient reverse cycle air conditioner for one, plus nice lounge suites etc ... of course its not "our" space but still very pleasant.  Tuxedo mostly vagued out while I read (back issues of InStyle, and Matt Ridley's Nature via Nurture - great writing and some very interesting ideas already, I especially appreciate the little glimpses/run-downs on the history of genetics, the views of human uniqueness, and the whole nature vs. nurture argument).  A good way to spend most of Saturday.

* one of the two rooms that we occupy in my parents' house; the other being our bedroom.  We recently did a big tidy up and reorganisation of all the stuff that was in this other room; it contained our desks and computers, a sofa, a huge pine bookshelf, my weights bench and hand weights and yoga mat, several boxes of books ... basically you could not move in there for breaking a hip or at least causing serious bruising.  We moved the bookshelf into the bedroom (where it fits perfectly and looks great), also moved the weights bench into the bedroom (where it doesn't fit so perfectly and doesn't look so great but its an interim measure ... I hope), cleared out the boxes, moved the desks and sofa around ... Now we have a really nice office/sitting room where we can mess about on our computers, or snuggle up on the sofa and watch DVDs/listen to music on Tuxedo's Beast of a machine.  It has made such a difference having a comfy, slightly more spacious area to just relax in.  It is still a pretty minute space though, hence the Batcave designation.

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I'm hoping that the PUMS will, as they have promised, get around to clearing out another room which is currently full of junk (before we moved in there were four junk rooms; now there are only two!) so I can put my weights bench in there; we already keep our bikes in that room so it makes a kind of sense.  I also really really want to hire-then-buy a decent rowing machine.

I really have to get tough on myself; see, I'm pretty unfit right now, for me.  For the five years or so pre-Northern Ireland I was on a very very intense exercise programme, developed by my specialist, a rehabilitation consultant and a physiotherapist to build muscle tone and try to reverse the effects of osteoporosis.  Anyways, I got fit for the first time in my life, damn fit; I was going to the gym three-four times a week for up to an hour and a half, doing weights training, floor work, some yoga and boxing, and baby I had fantastic muscle tone - visible triceps and biceps and deltoids oh my! - was physically strong and powerful and had a good level of cardiovascular fitness as well. 

In N. Ireland though, that all slipped ... it was hard, seeing all that hard work going down the tubes, it really was.  Couldn't be helped though; there were no accessible gyms (there are about 25 tanning salons on every single street in Belfast but about 0.4 gyms in the entire county), the health service was shite and couldn't put me in touch with a rehab. specialist or programme ... I tried very hard to maintain the same level of intensity of programme at home, using hand weights and stretching every day, doing a little yoga to DVD ... but it just wasn't the same, couldn't be the same.  So my strength and fitness went kerblooie.  My health went kerblooie too, not surprisingly.  While the exercise hadn't had much of an effect on my condition or pain levels, it had helped my general wellbeing enormously.  And not having proper rehab. specialists on side was a bummer (I stupidly thought that in a country where people are still regularly getting their kneecaps shot off that rehab. might be a burgeoning industry .... hollow laughter).

Since being back in Western Australia my main objective has been to get well enough to start an exercise programme.  Now I'm ready; I just have to get off my fat arse (well actually its not that fat, fortunately I haven't gained any weight and am somewhere between 45-48 kgs as always) and get going.  A gym membership would be the best thing ever; a rowing machine at home would be a good addition (as well as, not instead of the gym) to keep me going in between sessions. 

In the meantime I keep up with my daily stretches, floor work and hand weights, which takes about 45 minutes total and gets me sweating, so really, I'm not doing that badly, actually I'm doing damn well in the circumstances.  I just want to do better.  Stay tuned.

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