Mary is leaving tomorrow for Atlanta, where she’ll help Celia with the twins for a couple weeks. And there’s been speculation about how my life will be upended without her here to take care of me. I’ll be fine, of course, but today she gave me a crash course in Laundry, and then she cooked me an extra-fine meal, just so I’d know what I’m missing while she’s gone.
Well I’m a week into the program, and life has changed.
I can make all the noise I want, anywhere I want, at all hours of the day or night. And I do.
So far, I’ve reorganized the garage, framed the new basement windows, put most of that broken countertop back together, weeded the garden, and gone to the dump. I’ve set my mornings aside for coding and so far, I’m actually coding in the mornings. (Which is a big deal, because I’ve been having motivational issues in that regard) I eat more granola and fewer vegetables, and I’ll bet I’ll lose weight. I get up earlier, I don’t drink at all, and I leave the seat up. But then, I do that anyway.
The world’s stiffest arm
Mary’s life’s changed too. When she left, birth was supposed to be imminent, but it’s turned into a waiting game. Apparently the boys like being inside Mom more than Mom likes it. Drama all around!
A couple of the apple trees I planted in the orchard are starting to bear fruit, and one of them had even gotten big enough that I’d taken away it’s deer fence. So the other morning, when I was sitting at my desk coding, I looked out the window and saw a half dozen big wild turkeys gathered in a big turkey circle surrounding that tree. They were gobbling at the top of their lungs, shuffling left and right in sync with the noise. And one by one, each turkey stepped into the ring, flexed and strutted a little, and then leapt, straight up, to grab the highest apple it could snatch on drumstick power alone. The turkey crowd squawked their approval, and placed their bets on the next Tom to enter the ring.
In the last exciting blog episode, we watched Our Hero drop a one thousand dollar slab of stone onto the floor from 3 feet up. It shattered into one thousand little pieces.
The only way to fix this, I knew, was to shell out another one thousand dollars, wait another 6-8 weeks for the backorder and then try it again. At this rate, the bathroom is going to be under construction until Christmas.
Mary saw me sitting dejected on the porch, and asked me “Can’t you just glue it back together?” I had to laugh. Impossible.
You see where this is going, right?
After all, it wasn’t 1000 pieces. It was only eleven.
And if I can get the little pieces back together, …..
Then why not the big ones?
I won’t lie to you: It was a bitch. But it came out surprisingly well.
News Flash! We’ve got babies! Ozzie and Ryker August 14.
I have been working on that bathroom project for Ever.
There is nothing about it that didn’t go wrong.
There was nothing about it that didn’t take too long.
It was the bathroom remodel from Hell.
It’s all my fault, of course. I coulda’ just swapped out the toilet and called it a day, but that’s not my style. I went big, and it took a long time.
But in the end, more must have gone right than wrong, because it came out good, and I like it. I like the vibe. It is – the – place to pee!
And whoever did the woodwork, knew what he was doing.
“Really nice work,” I was thinking to myself as I put up the mirror using the last two screws for the whole project. “Not a blemish in sight.”
And then I missed the stud.
It’s summer time, so BZ wants to be an outdoor cat.
If we don’t let him out at night, he whines and claws and carries on at the door until he gets his way. We worry, because it’s a jungle out there, and he thinks he’s king, but we want him to be happy, even if it kills him.
Anyway, I mention this because I was coming up the stairs from the basement when I came face to face with a mouse. I think it’s time for BZ to spend more time indoors.
Everything I own is broke.
My windshield has a crack in it.
My check engine light is on.
The bucket loader has a leak.
The gearbox on the mower came loose and ruined the belt and the rear wheel.
I rode the Suzuki with too little air in the rear tire and I ruined the tread.
I rode the Kawasaki with too much air in the rear tire, and it blew a ply.
The boom wouldn’t start because the gas line was blocked.
I fixed most of it, but come on, God, give me a fucking break.
My side of the family showed up, en masse, and stayed next door for a few days. Normally, Mary would have organized the hospitality, and it’s a given that she’d get it right. This time, it’s all on me and, if I made it look easy, it’s only because I learned from the Master.
From an old family recipe.
The door pulls for the bathroom, of course, were on back order, and when they finally came, so did my family, so finishing up the bathroom is going to have to wait.
Yet again.