Craft-in-a-Closet

So in my November Schedule I was supposed to talk about my efforts to organize my house on Thursdays. Last week I was rudely interrupted by a potential burgler, but I’m going to make good on my anal-retentive instincts and return to the original schedule.  So another MAJOR hurdle for this place was Where In the World to Put the Craft Supplies. My junk took up 75% of our last spare bedroom, but here, I have no craft room. Ergo: closet.

I was inspired by this Lovely Designs craft closet, this closet office with curtains, another whole ream of small space ideas, some other stuff I probably forgot, and of course some wall-mounted craft stations. (If you didn’t click on those links, you should, because that’s some pretty crazy creative stuff there.)

This, I promise you, will eventually Look Much More Decorative, but right now? I’m really super pleased with the basic construction. It has lighting! It has shelves! I can close the door so the cat doesn’t attack my stuff!  The shelves are drilled into concrete, so I’m pretty sure this will be one of the most stable sewing desks I’ve ever had. It’s also the best lit. My dad installed an outlet for me in the closet when he helped us move.

There’s more craft junk than this, of course. The rest of it I put on shelves with a table underneath. So this is the (somewhat) before. This is one end of my living room.  Jeff had just hammered holes into those concrete walls and we put up the shelves. Those boxes are my craft/art supplies. The door on the left is the closet I just showed you.

So here’s the shelves after un-packing. There’s still tool junk, a dog bed, it’s kinda messier than I like, and there are some cleaning supplies there that I don’t know what to do with (hey, it’s an apartment-in-progress), but this is mostly it. There will be a screen between this stuff and the rest of the living room eventually.

So did anybody spot my owl mascot?

Sunday Evening Post

I keep making these posts at a few minutes to midnight. I guess that’s what happens when you’re trying to move into a new apartment, eh?

The place looks totally different than it did Friday night (for better, I should add). I should absolutely show you Jeff with the hammer drill we rented. This is a serious piece of power equipment. It’s a mini jackhammer. Since neither of us is macho – we’re both computer nerds – Jeff doing battle with the concrete walls was really something today. We won. If you had any doubt, you don’t know how stubborn we both are.

We’re also contemplating Mr. McScruffy. We don’t want Yorkie #2. Having a dog just like Audrey would be heartbreaking. Yet we loved certain doggy things about her, and certain terrier traits. We’re still thinking about it, but we will go visit Mr. McScruffy next weekend to see what we think.

Anyway, this is a sample conversation this evening that illustrates just how worn out we are at this point:

Jeff: You have the drill?

Me: No.

Jeff:  Why not?

Me: ‘Cause.

Jeff: You should always have the drill.

Me: Huh?

Jeff: The drill.

Me: What?

Jeff: Are you paying attention to me?

Me:  I don’t know. What are we talking about?

Jeff: The drill. Have you seen it?

Me: Didn’t you have it last?

Jeff: I don’t know. You find it. You’re supposed to have it.

Me: What? The drill?  Okay. But I don’t know where it is….

And on and on it goes … At this point, if you’re a praying person, or a good thoughts person, we probably need a little of both.

And continuing on …

Returning to crafting tomorrow. I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately. After a week of moving and unpacking and working, trying to sleep in a strange place and then! someone trying to break in …. (good luck sleeping after that). Well, I just am going to say hi, then I’m going to have a nice cocktail, read a few chapters and hopefully sleep a lot. That’s the plan.

Update on my attempted burglary: there are three outside doors on this place, all with three locks, one with a latching screen. One door is blocked and unused.  Two are on the side of the house, accessed via the backyard (we’re the garage apartment in back). At the time this happened, the lights were on, and it was only 8:45 pm.

So the first time I heard the garden gate open, then footsteps on the grass, and then someone trying to open the side screen door (it was latched from the inside). Jeff had just left 5 minutes before and I thought maybe it was him. I was in the next room, but I went in and said, “hello?” and saw the guy with his hand on the door trying to open it (jeans, t-shirt, patterned tan-blue hoodie, one hand in a pocket, hood up). When he saw me he took off running. I never saw his face – too much shadow. The second time I didn’t see anyone, but 15 minutes after the first incident I stood in the room and heard and watched the doorknob rattle and heard the lock scrape on try 2 (that’s the blocked door). When I banged on the door, it went silent and still.

Was it the same guy? I don’t know. Why me? I don’t know. What the hell? I don’t know. Honestly, given the circumstances, it was one or two really stupid people. Who tries to rob a lit, locked house? Who tries to pick a deadbolt?

Anyhoo, since we just moved in we were still fixing the busted motion lights, the busted blinds, etc., and had just fixed the screen door and the latch (whew!).  We do have bars on some windows, and are of course not insensible to other security precautions like being careful and listening. I filed a police report, called my landlord (they’re installing another light and a security system), made sure to come home before dark today, and Jeff has a baseball bat (neither of us is a gun person).

The most popular suggestion today? Get a dog. Honestly, I never realized how insulated we were by her barking all those years, until she was gone. Maybe it’s time.

My favorite suggestion: NRA stickers on the windows.

My idea: a system of motion-sensitive cameras and electrical shocks to anyone who touches a door or window. Not practical or legal, but a truly satisfying thought.

Ah, well. I guess after years of living in major cities with no burglaries, no muggings, etc., it had to eventually happen just when I moved to a safer neighborhood. The irony is not lost.