dragonlady7

Ah. Deciding not to go home to Melrose after all was a sad and hard decision, but I am determined that I should put my house in order before beginning my new job, and this is the day to do it. Yesterday I did mundanities like dishes, laundry, and some writing for roller derby, as well as writing that long-ass post about what I did on my weekend Away.
Today I've cleaned out my closet and dresser. So far things are still in piles on my floor, but it's a start, and hopefully I will get a second wind tonight. I'd better, as I have no other time to finish this, and half-finished is worse than not started at all. At least I've taken all the things I haven't worn in a few years, tried them on, and sorted them into piles, and washed the "I will wear this again, in the near future" pile, which is now hanging out to dry in the sunshine so my closet will smell like not-mothballs.

While all that stuff dried, I did some gardening, but mostly what I did was dismantle the existing compost heap in the middle of the driveway, and start to set up another one by the south fence of the property. It's not quite three feet from the fence [which is, according to the building inspector the sour old cunt next door called on us, the minimum required space for a compost heap-- 3 ft from fences, property lines, or buildings]. I can't make myself make it three feet, because that puts it in the middle of the goddamn yard, which is not where I want it. So it's only about two feet from one fence, and a foot and a half from the other, but it's on a really gross bit of yard that I think might be grub-infested. So I really wanted to put it there.
I've also emptied out all the large pots and containers that were sitting out full of debris and weeds, and have refilled them with clean potting soil. I need to plant a lot of things. I may do that tomorrow morning. I am tired just now, and muddy.

I have a good selection of really long wintry skirts. I will be set, come autumn. But I lack blouses, and nice summery things, and light-colored things. I want to ask Mom for the patterns of a couple of the old garments I found that I know she made me, as they'd be fun to make again. My problem is that I am by no means even an intermediate seamstress, but everything I want to make is either very complicated, or of a design differing significantly from any known pattern, and so I have to be much better at this sewing thing than I am, or find someone who will redraft patterns for me. It's kind of a bummer.

I really really really want to make myself some cute tops though.

In related news I am absolutely crushed to find that the convertible plunge-front bra I ordered in my size from Figleaves doesn't fit me. It's the right size, I just, apparently, can't wear a plunge style. There's plenty of room for my boobs, but they won't stay in the bra. I am really upset by this, as up to now I've always deluded myself that if only I could find the right size bra I could wear anything I wanted. This is obviously not the case: a 34G of my distinct shape will not stay in a plunge front no matter how well-tailored, and I am up against an immovable limitation. I really am upset about this, despite the ridiculous language I'm using.
I really, truly, honestly want to be able to make my own bras. I am sure I could make myself something that would work. Just... not in a plunge style.
Oh! I snapped the strap today of the first bra I ever bought that *almost* fit me-- a 36F from Freya. I am sad, although it didn't really fit me. Still and all. I will probably repair it, but don't know if I should try taking in the band while I'm at it-- it's too large in the band, but too small in the cup as well and I think having the band fit would only highlight the problems with the cups more.
If only there were an easy way to alter bras to make the cups larger... Don't bother trying to find one, there isn't one.

I really want a nap now. I am quite tired. But no! I am going to finish working on my damn closet. I must not be stupid about this or I will never ever ever have a clean room.

Last night I got a bit drunk and philosophical and started thinking of stories I wanted to write. How far away that dream seems now... maybe once I have a bit of time, this summer?

Sigh.