friday

Today has been my day off.  I’ve spent it running around like a blue-arsed fly doing various things.  Firstly, I managed to post some things I’d sold on eBay.  That done, I went to Medicare and claimed some money back.  It came to a reasonable amount too, so that was a nice surprise.

Then I went to my mum’s place, to pick up our ironing (her ironing lady does ours for us sometimes) and to play with the dogs.  Following that, I picked up a new split-system airconditioner which we’re going to put in the unit we’re renovating.  When I got home, I started photographing more things I’m going to sell on eBay – primarily clothes that aren’t likely to ever fit again *snivel*.

It doesn’t sound like much, but I’ve been busy all day, in a good way.  I am noticing however that I’m anxious for no real reason.  I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next Friday, so I’ll be able to tell him.  However, I’m hoping it’ll disappear between now and then. 

In other news, this is a long weekend.  I have no idea why, I just know that I have Friday through to Monday inclusive off work.  It’ll be a gardening weekend – SO and a friend will be doing borders to the garden beds.  I’ll be in the kitchen, organising breakfast/morning tea/lunch/afternoon tea/drinks/dinner.  And washing up.  However, all the kitchen-based activity will be worth it if we can prevent the couch from growing into the garden beds.  SO isn’t quite as enthused as I am about the prospect, but then he’ll be the one on the end of a shovel for two solid days, so that’s to be expected.

tenants

For some strange reason, problems with tenants always comes in groups.  Tonight, we’ve signed a new lease (at the 11th hour) with one tenant, and served a Notice of Breach of Agreement on the other.

We have two investment properties, and two tenants, one per unit.  Generally they’re pretty good.  That said, the things they do never fail to amaze me.  When we signed the new lease with one tonight, I saw SO clench his teeth, and followed his gaze.  He was looking at the flyscreen on the front screen door.  We had replaced it just prior to the current tenant moving in.  However, so she could hang a sheet from it, she had ripped two holes in the top, one on each side, and threaded the ends of the sheet through.  I said quietly to SO, ‘Just calm down… stay calm…’ and fortunately he did.

If the unit were hot, I would understand.  However, we put in icy cold aircon as soon as the weather warmed up, so it’s definitely not that.  I can’t think of any other reason why she would have done that.  It’s not like it’s a big deal, by any means.  We’ll just replace it when she goes.  But why?!

We’re pretty reasonable landlords.  We don’t charge exorbitant rent, and we always fix problems as soon as possible.  We leave our tenants to live their own lives, and don’t intrude on the properties.  We’re making a conscious effort to treat our tenants the way we wish to be treated.  There are so many horror stories around of landlords who let unlivable units, charge unbelievable rent, and just drop in whenever as it’s ‘their property’, that we have been careful to avoid the stereotype.

And it’s interesting.  It really is.  I enjoy it, dealing with different people, doing a grotty place up so it looks nice, and having a good relationship with tenants.  Every so often it does strike me how bizarre it is that we’re in this position, though.  Perth is one of the most expensive places in the world to own property, and we have three.  Uh, correction: the bank has three.  We own about the equivalent of a doghouse.

hair

When I was at my mum’s yesterday, my little brother dropped by.  I say ‘little’ but he’s nearly 28 and nearly 6′3″.  When he bent over to pat the dogs, I noticed he’s got the typical middle-aged bald spot.  I know that baldness comes from the mother’s side, but that doesn’t explain why no one on my mum’s side has ever lost their hair, while my dad was bald as a coot from his early 20s.  My little brother has the same pattern of baldness as my dad.

I’m in the process of growing my hair.  Well, I guess it’s not something I’m doing, as such – it’s more something I’m not doing – I’m not cutting it as often.  When I do cut it, I get SO to do it.  It’s quick, cheap, and he does a good job.  He trimmed off a couple of inches tonight, then measured it.  67cms, or about 26 and a half inches.  It probably sounds weird, but it’s the only objective way I can tell it is actually growing.

I’m also taking better care of it.  I only wash it about 2-3 times a week, and I don’t dry it with a hairdryer any more.  The last time I used a hairdryer, it was 11 November 2006, when SO and I got married.  And that was only because I did my hair in the middle of the day (we got married mid-afternoon).  Before I started looking after it, my hair would just snap.  Hair is meant to stretch, but mine didn’t.  It was too brittle.  However since I started looking after it, it’s now stretching, like hair should (if put under pressure, anyhow).

planning ahead

I’ve started looking into more specific stuff that we need to organise for our unit (apartment) renovation.  Our tenant leaves on 22 March, and we have given ourselves four weeks’ leave from work to get it done.

We already have the majority of the furniture, as we will be renting it furnished.  All we need now is a mattress for the bed frame, and a dining table.  But we need most of the hard-core reno stuff – things like a new toilet, kitchen cabinets, etc.  (That said, we do have the new handles for the kitchen – I got 25 of them for $80, including postage, from eBay.  Bargain!  Now we just need the cupboards to put them on.)

I spent this morning driving around Osborne Park, a nearby suburb which has a lot of warehouses, looking at (and pricing) vinyl and carpet flooring.  The range in prices never fails to amaze me.  Budget priced vinyl costs from $23/metre to $40/metre.  This is for essentially the same product, both in appearance and quality.  Carpet also varied a lot.  Anyhow, I now know where we’ll be getting our floor coverings, which is a good thing.

I’m not really looking forward to doing the kit kitchen thing.  Much as I appreciate the cost saving aspect, I’m worried my lack of spatial ability will result in a royal screwup.  We also haven’t got the actual measurements of the unit yet, as our tenant is still in there.  Although that may not be for much longer – we received another letter in the mail today, complaining of more noisy music and throwing stuff off the balcony.  Self-managing a rental property teaches you many things, including the vagaries of human nature.  Plus, I can now quote sections of the Residential Tenancies’ Act on demand.  It’s a great party trick.

long weekend

It’s Thursday night (or really, late afternoon) and I’m sitting in my home.  There’s clean laundry on the line that needs to be brought in, but it doesn’t matter.  My weekend has started, and I’m in relaxation mode.

One of the benefits (actually, I think it may be the only benefit) of my slide into serious clinical depression over the last year and a half is that I’m on part-time hours until early April this year.  While we miss the money, we certainly can cope (especially as it’s only a short-term thing) and the effect on my mental health is incredible.  That one extra day a week off work makes a substantial difference in how I cope with the other four days where I’m getting paid to do a job which is stressful and has a manic boss as part of the package.

I’m not sure yet what I’ll do tomorrow.  Sleep in?  Nah, I’ll get up and do stuff.  I just don’t know what yet.  Then I’ll have a nanny nap in the afternoon.  Perfect!

depression

I was at work today and talking to a colleague when I heard myself say, ‘When I was suicidal…’

I never imagined I would say (or think) those words.  Until the age of 29, I had had a pretty ordinary life.  A few ups and downs (getting kicked out of home as a rebellious 19-year-old amongst them), relationship failures, a pregnancy scare, etc.  Nothing unheard of.  Like many, I bounced back from these and other events pretty well.

However, in the last couple of years, various things happened which sent me into a downward spiral.  My dad died after being very ill with leukaemia.  I wrote a car off in an accident that still causes nightmares.  My career, paradoxically, took off, and I ended up in a much more responsible job, while having a micromanaging hairy wildebeast with PMS as my manager.  At age 32, SO had to see a cardiologist for possible cardiac problems.  He also had his arthritis meds changed, resulting in the need for a biweekly subcutaneous injection, which I had to administer.  The med change didn’t work, and he was in pain and lost flexibility before he changed back.  There were other things, but I think they’re the main ones.

Anyhow, all of this combined to send me into a prolonged bout of clinical depression.  It culminated in September last year, when I lost the capacity to feel anything.  I felt numb.  Realising this wasn’t normal or a good sign, I started seeing a psychologist.  While this helped, it wasn’t enough.

Eventually I was referred to a psychiatrist, who after an hour and a half said to me, ‘Well no wonder you feel suicidal – your meds (Effexor, 300mg) aren’t actually addressing your depression’.  To say it was a Eureka moment is understated.  I had been on Effexor for nearly a year at that point.

I changed meds from Effexor to Lexapro (escilatopram) 20mg, and while I feel better, I look back on last year with deep fear.  I have never in my life been suicidal before, and having been in that dark land, I never want to go back again.  I’m praying that the care I’m taking of myself, the drop down to part time hours, the regular psychologist appointments, will all help to ward off a return.

therapy

Ugh.  Today is officially a Bad Day.

I’m struggling with work at the moment.  Not the execution of it, but rather dealing with my Pointy Haired Boss (PHB) who, following my extended period of mental incapacity last year (due primarily to clinical depression, which got out of hand) now hates me.  As a result, I’m miserable at work.  I hate not being liked, particularly by my direct report.

I’m seeing a clin psych who specialises in work issues.  He’s been great.  After our first session, he said to me, ‘You do realise you need to get another job, right?’  It was then that I realised we were meant to be together – psychologist and nutjob, a beautiful duo.  I also see another psych, but she’s not so up on the work stuff, so we deal with other things.  (It’s okay, they both know about each other – I’m not cheating on either one of them.)

Wow.  Just reading that last paragraph makes me sound like one of those neurotic women you read about in magazines, the ones where you think, ‘Thank God that’s not me’.

Anyhow, my work psych and I had a date today.  We covered the PHB and how she’s been acting towards me lately.  We also discussed the pros and cons of telling her now that I’m looking for another job.  As my WP said, there’s not a lot of point telling her until I actually get an interview, at which point referees are normally contacted, so that’s what I’m going for.

At the end of the session WP brought up my dad, who died two years ago, on 9th Feb 2006.  Due to the anniversary being so close, and my PMS, I teared up, which I hate.  However, I did use this as an excuse not to return to work.  Nothing like using the death of a family member to get out of returning to the office.

SO is still away.  I wish he’d come back.  I miss him.

alone

SO has been deployed up North, to help deal with a potential cyclone.  I never knew that IT guys were needed in cyclones, but hey, you learn something new every day.  He thinks he’ll be up for a few days at least, which gives me lots of time to clean the house.  It’s the strangest thing but I’m always much more motivated to clean the house on the rare occasions that SO isn’t here.  I think it’s because that way, if there’s mess, it’s my fault, and that’s okay.  Whereas God help SO if he makes a mess when I’ve been cleaning!

This cleaning impulse extends to the garden.  Today was the first cool day in what feels like eternity, so I got out there and did some pottering around.  I even took some photos of the holes in the ground where the two fruit trees used to be, just for posterity.

Some photos of what that spot used to look like, in early January 2008:

 

 

and some photos of what it looked like this afternoon:

 

It’s slowly getting there…. all we have to do now is continue the reticulation along where the holes in the ground are, then we can plant it up.  I’m looking forward to it, I have to say.

Tomorrow will be good, I’m going to be dog-sitting my mother’s puppy and dog.  She and the BF are going down south to visit his family.  My brother will look after them on Sunday, so at least I won’t have lost my whole weekend.

As part of my cleaning, I’ve managed to list some stuff for sale on eBay – mostly pants I bought that don’t fit.  I’m dirty that they don’t, I really like the majority of them.  Of course, in theory I could lose some weight, but it seems to be easier said than done.  Oh well, I need to be a bit easier on myself.  My psychologist warned that just because the 20mg Lexapro is working well, it doesn’t mean I can be all things to all people, including myself.  I guess I should be satisfied with planning a renovation, gardening, cleaning up long-term house mess, and selling off extra cr@p that is surplus to requirements. 

I did manage to apply for a couple of jobs today too.  I hate where I am at the moment, and my psych has told me to get out.  Those were his actual words – I’m not paraphrasing.  That was a pretty clear message.  As a result, I’ve been good – seeking out potential new jobs, considering dropping salary, and actually putting in applications.  Let’s hope I get lucky. 

pimples

I don’t know what it is about pimples.  I started getting blackheads when I was 9, much to my mother’s horror.  Luckily, she was prepared to remove them for me.  No fancy-schmancy blackhead removing tool involved here; fortunately, she had long fingernails. 

At the age of 13, I suddenly broke out all over my face.  This continued for about three or so years.  My photo from Year 10, at the tender age of 15, was so bad that my parents decided not to buy it.  It’s the only school photo that my parents don’t have, of the 24 years of combined primary and high school that my brother and I completed.  I remember crying when I got home the afternoon of that photo, and trying to count the number of zits on my face, just to know.  I lose interest when I got past about forty.  What did the actual number matter?  All I needed to know was that I needed a paper bag to stop people from staring at me.  And it hurt, too.

Now, in my early 30s, I still get pimples.  They’re not hormonal, either.  Nor do they limit themselves to the t-zone, although that is a popular area.  A couple of years ago, my brother looked at my skin, and said, ‘I think you’ll still have pimples when you start getting wrinkles’.  At the time I cursed him.  Now, I suspect he’s right.

Like other undesirable physical traits (fat ankles being amongst them), I inherited my skin from my dad.  While it is less than perfect, it does have one compensating factor; I seem to be taking a long time to get crows’ feet, and other age-related imperfections.  I guess I should be grateful, after all.  I do still get mistaken for being much younger than I am.  I like to think it’s because of my lack of wrinkles, rather than my abundance of zits.

gardening

What a day.  We actually dragged ourselves off the couch and got outside, even though it was 35 degrees Celsius.  SO wasn’t keen, but after a while he gained momentum.  This was good, as he ended up digging out two large peach trees, which had been living on borrowed time for a while.  I started well, but when it got to axe-wielding time, I was demoted to an interested onlooker, rather than an active participant in the fun.

Anyhow, we’ve ended up clearing a spot which previously consisted of a large pile of grass clippings (as in, about a trailerload’s worth), and two fruit trees.  Now all that remains are two large holes in the ground.  All we need to do now is put the reticulation through that section, and it can actually become a garden bed.  Oh, and some plants.

I’m very excited about this.  We’ve only had the house for two years, and it’s taken us this long to get to it.  Not because we’ve been busy doing other things (although that’s partly true); it’s more, well, we’re not nearly as interested in gardening as we thought we would be.

We had a good Saturday too.  We went to an auction in the morning, and ended up with a 1.5 bowl stainless steel kitchen sink, for $100.  We also got a fantastic porcelain bathroom vanity.  Both are brand new, and flawless.  We’re going to put them in one of our units (apartments) which we’ll be renovating at the end of March.  I’m really looking forward to it – when we did our other unit last August, I got an incredible sense of satisfaction out of the whole process.  And that was doing it at nights after work and on weekends.  This time we’re actually taking leave from work to do the reno, so it should be much easier and less stressful.  Hopefully.