Today I had a little time to kill at the end of my lunch hour, so I drove over to see how the condo construction is coming. The house wasn't open, but I could peer inside the windows and it was exciting to see what's going on in there. I think it's ready for the paint and flooring. I stepped back to the sidewalk and just tried to take it in, tried to imagine going home there every day. A guy walked by at one point and said, with a smile, "Is that your house?" (We talk to strangers in Portland.) "Yeah." He said, "Congratulations!" I'm supposed to close around 11/9, although I still have a long way to go before that's certain. I hate wishing time away, but I kind of hope it gets here fast.
Every night I come home from work, strip down to my underwear, put on a tank top, and sew all night to episode after episode of This American Life. I don't know exactly what the first part of the ritual is about. I think that when I started, the weather was still quite warm so my apartment was around 1,000 degrees when I would get home from work. So anyway, I get home, put on my uniform, start the podcasts, and sew, sew, sew. I sew all night and then pack things up when it's time to go to bed. The next evening, I come home and do it again.
I've been trying new (simple) patterns every few days to help me learn and remember the basics. I've been filling up my Etsy shop . . . Is it possible I don't truly have the heart of an entrepreneur if I hope no one buys anything because I like to see all those little pouches in the pictures there? I actually started to close the shop late this summer; I decided I much prefer making things for friends vs. making things for strangers. But then about a month ago someone e-mailed me and asked if I would make twenty bags for a party they're having. Twenty! I decided it would be a good challenge, so I'm about to start that. I'll make them in my underwear and a tank top, no doubt.
Ready to gasp? Huntington Beach called me last week. I know. I almost dropped my teeth. We spent about 2 1/2 hours on the phone catching up, and I'll tell you what you already know: I loved it. It's truly hard to believe it's been a year and a half since he and I were in regular contact. And during that time, whenever I've started to see someone who is nice and cute but not quite doing it for me, I'll say to a friend, "He's no Huntington Beach." Eesh. However. the reality is that neither of our situations have changed, and he only got in touch to say hi and catch up. We've texted a few times since, but honestly, I don't see it going anywhere. I sure liked him, and it was incredibly nice to hear from him. He's a good, good guy.
I'm beat. Thanks for listening, Internet.