Weirdest result of the Torchwood fixation?
Hideous/difficult/traumatic household tasks no longer phase me.
Climbing up to our ridiculously high ceilings to change lightbulbs (I am deeply afraid of even minor heights) -- no problem.
Throwing my shoulder into the jammed window about 20 times to get it to open? (after I had to take a razor blade to the paint that had sealed it as well) Sure.
Moving the unfuckingbelievably heavy airconditioner out of the office and into the bedroom? Yeah, why not? (although I should have climbed out on the fire escape, pushed it across and them climbed back in -- would have been more efficient, but I only thought of it after the fact).
Figuring out how to make the air conditioner not fall out the window? Well I whined to you guys and Kat and, after getting her advice, braced it against the fire escape with a couple of bookshelves and a 3lb dumbbell. What a mess.
And somehow I decided to do all this while wearing white pants, which certainly aren't white anymore. Because I am nothing if not inappropriate lygung ho.
ANYWAY. These are minor, stupid tasks. But they are not within the realm of shit I would have been willing to do or thought myself capable of doing a year ago. Hell, the stuff that actually took strength, I probably couldn't have done pre-fencing.
It's amazing what a bit of arm strength and a lot of bullshit can do for a life.
Seriously.
Because NO ONE wants to ask their gf to install an air conditioner for them when she's just gotten home from a 2+ month dig.
Fucking hell. This just leaves with the dishes and other such things. Waaaaay less fun.