This week felt like one long side quest that kept branching into smaller, more annoying ones.
I ordered sweet potato slips so I could get them rooted indoors and ready for spring. Unfortunately, the post office left the box directly in a snowbank, and then the plows came through after the most recent storm. By the time I found it, the box was almost completely buried, just one corner of the box poking out. We’ll see if they live, but I don’t have high hopes. There’s a very real chance I’ll have to start that project from scratch, which feels rude but also extremely on brand for February gardening.
Next weekend I’m planning to start some winter sowing for asparagus, onion, pansy, and serviceberry seeds. Just waiting on a delivery of dirt that isn’t frozen solid.
I deep cleaned the cottage for ten hours yesterday. Being trapped inside all winter, breathing the same stale air like a submarine, does something genuinely bad to my brain. I get borderline zoochosis symptoms unless I aggressively luften the house and start spring cleaning far too early.
I still need to anchor the dishwasher and install smoke alarms. Yes, we have been living here for almost two years with no smoke alarms. YIKES. I know. I know. It’s on my list. The list is long and haunted.
There’s also an ice dam over the addition that serves as the plant room. It’s the perfect storm of problems: four feet of snow, a poorly sloped roof, a very warm plant room, and an old cottage with questionable insulation. The result has been bubbling paint on the walls and ominous drip marks on the ceiling.
I spent two hours on the roof in negative two degree weather with a brutal windchill, shoveling snow and chipping a channel through 6 inches of solid ice to redirect the runoff. I’m still cold twelve hours later. Hopefully that solves the problem, because my dad took his big ladder back home with him, and I would very much like to never climb back up there again.
I’m also fairly sure that between rapid weight loss and stress, I am legitimately starting to lose my hair. Crying, screaming, throwing up. I know I would not look good bald. I’m currently contemplating Rogaine or going back to a jellyfish cut. Results pending.
I’ll touch more on what I’ve been stressing about a little later. This feels like enough for one entry.
For now, things are messy, projects are half-alive, the house is clean, the roof did not win, and I’m still trying to move steadily toward spring.
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