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2001-07-12 | 11:29 a.m.

Kudos to Kath McCall, who got me to make the phone call. I mulled it over for a while and couldn't decide who I was supposed to call, and then after I cleaned my bathroom mirror---thanks to a timely suggestion by Weetabix, given that it was still sporting the lipstick kiss I wrote about here---it suddenly occurred to me that the phone call I needed to make was to the chimney sweep, to give me an estimate on repairing the fireplace. The fireplace has been a non-burning thorn in my side for more than two years now. I'm debating whether to tell you the story. I suppose it does provide additional insight into my depraved character. But it's a long story. Suffice it to say that I have fretted over this fireplace for a small lifetime. I have fallen asleep thinking about the fireplace and woken up fretting about it.

But thanks to Kath McCall, the chimney sweep came this morning and my only regret is that I didn't ask him if he is single. (I want to set him up with my sister.) He was great. He didn't think the chimney needed to be replaced. You see, I had a mason come out last year to give me an estimate and he told me the chimney wasn't up to code and was cracked and would have to be torn out. He said, "You can either have a new car, or you can have a new fireplace." But the chimney sweep was like, Nah. We can do this, that, and the other thing. You should keep it functional as a wood-burning fireplace, because it adds value to the house, but we can run a gas line in so you can put in a gas or pellet stove, if you want, since you're not going to be able to burn wood in there for 2-5 years. (Huh? I said. Apparently this is pending legislation I hadn't heard about; a ban on burning wood in your fireplace.) Just figure out what you want on the outside---do you want granite, river rock, or whatever.

O thank you chimney sweep, O thank you thank you so much, you are LUCKY just like they said in Mary Poppins.

So that was awesome. And this morning I had another romantic dream, this one involving Diaryland, if you can believe it. Okay, I'm dancing in a recital somewhere, outside on Mare Island I think, with my daughter, and I'm wearing a long pink tulle skit and pink leotard, looking purposely foolish (this comes from writing about dancing yesterday), and holding a ribbon stick and flailing that around, and then later somehow it comes to my attention that another diarist on Diaryland has gone to see my performance, eek!, and even included my REAL name in his entry (picking up on my privacy fears), except he got my name wrong, reversing my middle and first names (this smacks of the Wolfgang entry), and expressing his devotion to me in the most heartwarming way (I'm afraid nothing like this has actually happened--sigh). So then somehow I hook up with him, but I am also being pursued by Drew Carey (I think the recurrence of my dream me trying to hook up with famous people is related to my hunger for recognition---surely the easiest and least-earned way to get recognition is to date a famous person). I must decide between the two of them. But at a certain point I realize that while I am intrigued by Drew Carey's interest, and the possibility that he might make me laugh, he is a major Republican donor, and we probably wouldn't get along for very long (this must be drawn from the frat boy in my entry on dancing). Maybe we would, maybe we wouldn't. I am still batting around the idea when I wake up.

A few months ago I complained about Drew Carey in an e-mail to Maxine, and I guess my subconscious just held on to that for the perfect dream opportunity.

Last but not least, I got a very nice note from the great diary designer frootjoos in my guestbook, saying she's willing to redesign my diary even though I didn't like A.I. Woo hoo! This day is really starting off great!!! I should let Diaryland run my life more often! But I'm not sure what to tell frootjoos about my redesign. What do I want my diary to look like? What is the appropriate visual representation of my personal zeitgeist? Do I have a favorite color? I don't know! (Can you even say "my own personal zeitgeist"? Is that allowed?)

Anyway, I promised you before and after pictures and I have included those below. I guess that is the end of this entry. My mind is all a-flutter. I will try to move on to the additional suggestions in my guestbook today, including Throcky's sobering and welcome reminder to read Keats when the house needs cleaning, and remember that he died full of potential at the age of 26.

Now I'm starting to tear up just thinking about Keats. No wonder I can't get a real job.

Let me get those pictures added and then I'll probably write more later today.

Here's the phone, before I made the call. The phone itself was kinda boring, so I included some of our family pictures. Oh, and I promise to remove the Oakland Raiders tie and artificial tanning lotion out of the phone niche.

Here you see the chimney sweep's business card in front of the spot where we want there to be a fireplace once more.

Here is the downstairs bathroom mirror, prior to cleaning per Weetabix.

Here is the real problem area in that bathroom, my reading zone and valet. Scary. I'll put up an "after" picture today, after I clean that spot.

More danger zones:

Somewhere you don't want to be during an earthquake.

Appalling. This is my dining room, believe it or not.

The long view, foreshortened: dining room to living room.

Surprised that I have a lime-green bedroom? Me too. I chose that color for the kids, then dispatched them to the smaller bedroom when I saw they never used the bigger bedroom during the day (now they play in their bedroom all the time).

It must seem exhibitionistic in the worst way to put up pictures of my messy house, but it feels therapeutic to me, because suddenly I can see what my house looks like from the perspective of someone else. Very interesting phenomenon! It might just help.

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