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Since we seem to have caught all the mice except the elusive bugger that was in Dad's room (and may now be in the living room), we're trying to commence some of the cleaning of the rooms hit hardest. We have door sweeps all around now and have been keeping doors closed to protect the rooms from more trouble. In some ways, it looks like Mom's room isn't as bad as we feared; in other ways, there are still going to be problems, not all of them mouse-related.
Mom's been worried to have her best clothes go in the washer because it keeps sporadically emitting some kind of black grease streaks on various articles of clothing. Dad thought he had fixed the problem, but ... I'm afraid he hasn't, not unless one of the things I washed tonight was also washed before he fixed the problem and acquired streaking then. **headdesk.** More likely, it happened tonight, especially since it looks like a second article of clothing might have a bit of it too. I am seriously dreading telling Mom about this.... And seriously wondering what we're going to do. There are lots of clothes in the closet that need washing in order to complete the cleaning, and if the washer is emitting grease, how can we wash them? And Dad probably won't want to believe there's still a problem....
I found the blue blouse I wanted to use for my Twilight costume and tried it on after I washed it. It's a little tight. Not uncomfortably, but the buttons are strained a bit. It's so frustrating to not be able to fit into clothes I once could.... I'll probably still use it, because it's so perfect, but ugggh.
A direct casualty of the mouse problem was a cardboard box that had originally been used as a house for the Turtles figures. I remember when I was a kid and Mom had the fun idea to make a house out of a box. We did that, and we made partitions and fit wrapping paper around as wallpaper and carpet.... In recent years it became a box to store things in Mom's room, but it still had the original features of the house. I salvaged the upstairs floor, which was protected inside, but the box itself had to go because the mouse did its thing on the roof. Ugggh. I was very sad to lose that piece of my childhood, but there wasn't anything else to do.
(Also, the Rockapella paper dolls Mom made for me are still AWOL and I've been afraid now that if I do find them, it will be my rotten luck that they'll be more casualties.)
And I had to store some of my stuff in Mom's room because I don't have room for it here. At the old house I had several places to put my stuff, but here it's largely crammed into one room, so some stuff had to remain in boxes, like my dolls. I always liked plushies better, but that doesn't mean I didn't love my dolls. (Baby/little girl and boy dolls, with the occasional Barbie, etc. I am not referring to dolls I've collected in more recent years, like Sailor Moon dolls. Those I have on display.) I was relieved that the mice hadn't been into the box, but saddened to see that some of the dolls have not weathered the passage of time well. One of them had some plastic age spots on her face; several others have plastic turning odd colors. And a plastic tote one doll is in is suffering plasticizer leakage. I felt a little like crying, honestly; suddenly it felt like such a long-ago era that I was looking upon and I thought of Mom's sadness when her childhood dolls suffered ill fates. (Far worse than mine, and I'm glad I still have mine with me.) I think she only has one left now, a bridal doll that's been stored with mine. She is actually in better condition than some of mine! And I felt sad that the dolls have been boxed ever since we moved here. They used to be on the top two shelves where I keep some books now. I wish I had room for everything in here....
I did have fun playing house and such with my dolls sometimes. I'd pretend they were all a big family. There are maybe 11-ish non-Barbie size big dolls; it's been a while since I've counted. I think what amused me the most was when I gave ridiculous names to some of the dolls. I still find that fairly hilarious. LOL. One of my oldest dolls, in a red and yellow dress, is Table. One in pink and white overalls is Chair. One in a blue jumpsuit is Picture. **snerk.** I think they had more conventional names once, but it just didn't stick; I wanted the funny ones. Thankfully, I think all the others have normal names. One is named after the half-sibling I'm the closest to.
The same day I discovered the dolls, yesterday, I started the day off by accidentally making a tear in my quilt worse. That's the quilt I've literally had all of my life, minus a few days; the sibling I'm closest to gave her to me. She's a Holly Hobby print quilt, handmade by his paternal grandmother. I remember when we'd have visitors when I was a kid and I'd carry her in with me. One of our favorite neighbors commented that there would be a day when Mom would put her in a drawer until I was grown-up and would ask to have her again. I said "I don't think so!" Everyone was amused. I was probably seven then; I'm twenty-eight and that neighbor's prediction never did come true. LOL. I still cuddle with that quilt every sleep session, even though I no longer take her to show visitors. Heh.
Well, so yesterday was not a good day for my childhood. I have a square of yellow cloth I specifically bought to repair some of the tears, though, and I decided it was time I did that. So last night I found time to sew a patch on over the tear I'd lengthened by accident. It actually looks pretty spiffy. Now to figure out how to repair the other worst tear without damaging what's left of what always looked like a cute little face in one of the corners. Wondering how to do both is why I didn't repair the tears as soon as I bought the cloth. I know I should just sew a patch over that entire corner, but when a couple of little holes there have made what looks like two eyes and a mouth and that's what I've seen most of my life, it's hard to think of covering that up. I have to do something with it, though, because part of that cloth had torn a lot worse since I was a child.
Mom's been worried to have her best clothes go in the washer because it keeps sporadically emitting some kind of black grease streaks on various articles of clothing. Dad thought he had fixed the problem, but ... I'm afraid he hasn't, not unless one of the things I washed tonight was also washed before he fixed the problem and acquired streaking then. **headdesk.** More likely, it happened tonight, especially since it looks like a second article of clothing might have a bit of it too. I am seriously dreading telling Mom about this.... And seriously wondering what we're going to do. There are lots of clothes in the closet that need washing in order to complete the cleaning, and if the washer is emitting grease, how can we wash them? And Dad probably won't want to believe there's still a problem....
I found the blue blouse I wanted to use for my Twilight costume and tried it on after I washed it. It's a little tight. Not uncomfortably, but the buttons are strained a bit. It's so frustrating to not be able to fit into clothes I once could.... I'll probably still use it, because it's so perfect, but ugggh.
A direct casualty of the mouse problem was a cardboard box that had originally been used as a house for the Turtles figures. I remember when I was a kid and Mom had the fun idea to make a house out of a box. We did that, and we made partitions and fit wrapping paper around as wallpaper and carpet.... In recent years it became a box to store things in Mom's room, but it still had the original features of the house. I salvaged the upstairs floor, which was protected inside, but the box itself had to go because the mouse did its thing on the roof. Ugggh. I was very sad to lose that piece of my childhood, but there wasn't anything else to do.
(Also, the Rockapella paper dolls Mom made for me are still AWOL and I've been afraid now that if I do find them, it will be my rotten luck that they'll be more casualties.)
And I had to store some of my stuff in Mom's room because I don't have room for it here. At the old house I had several places to put my stuff, but here it's largely crammed into one room, so some stuff had to remain in boxes, like my dolls. I always liked plushies better, but that doesn't mean I didn't love my dolls. (Baby/little girl and boy dolls, with the occasional Barbie, etc. I am not referring to dolls I've collected in more recent years, like Sailor Moon dolls. Those I have on display.) I was relieved that the mice hadn't been into the box, but saddened to see that some of the dolls have not weathered the passage of time well. One of them had some plastic age spots on her face; several others have plastic turning odd colors. And a plastic tote one doll is in is suffering plasticizer leakage. I felt a little like crying, honestly; suddenly it felt like such a long-ago era that I was looking upon and I thought of Mom's sadness when her childhood dolls suffered ill fates. (Far worse than mine, and I'm glad I still have mine with me.) I think she only has one left now, a bridal doll that's been stored with mine. She is actually in better condition than some of mine! And I felt sad that the dolls have been boxed ever since we moved here. They used to be on the top two shelves where I keep some books now. I wish I had room for everything in here....
I did have fun playing house and such with my dolls sometimes. I'd pretend they were all a big family. There are maybe 11-ish non-Barbie size big dolls; it's been a while since I've counted. I think what amused me the most was when I gave ridiculous names to some of the dolls. I still find that fairly hilarious. LOL. One of my oldest dolls, in a red and yellow dress, is Table. One in pink and white overalls is Chair. One in a blue jumpsuit is Picture. **snerk.** I think they had more conventional names once, but it just didn't stick; I wanted the funny ones. Thankfully, I think all the others have normal names. One is named after the half-sibling I'm the closest to.
The same day I discovered the dolls, yesterday, I started the day off by accidentally making a tear in my quilt worse. That's the quilt I've literally had all of my life, minus a few days; the sibling I'm closest to gave her to me. She's a Holly Hobby print quilt, handmade by his paternal grandmother. I remember when we'd have visitors when I was a kid and I'd carry her in with me. One of our favorite neighbors commented that there would be a day when Mom would put her in a drawer until I was grown-up and would ask to have her again. I said "I don't think so!" Everyone was amused. I was probably seven then; I'm twenty-eight and that neighbor's prediction never did come true. LOL. I still cuddle with that quilt every sleep session, even though I no longer take her to show visitors. Heh.
Well, so yesterday was not a good day for my childhood. I have a square of yellow cloth I specifically bought to repair some of the tears, though, and I decided it was time I did that. So last night I found time to sew a patch on over the tear I'd lengthened by accident. It actually looks pretty spiffy. Now to figure out how to repair the other worst tear without damaging what's left of what always looked like a cute little face in one of the corners. Wondering how to do both is why I didn't repair the tears as soon as I bought the cloth. I know I should just sew a patch over that entire corner, but when a couple of little holes there have made what looks like two eyes and a mouth and that's what I've seen most of my life, it's hard to think of covering that up. I have to do something with it, though, because part of that cloth had torn a lot worse since I was a child.
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