Today, at Clement Hardware, I charged the following items to the Jeff Clement account: 2 bungie cords (for helping Rachel move tomorrow a.m...might need'em to hold down the hatch, if mattresses are too big, and the rest of this stuff has nothing to do with Rachel's move...) 1 can Great Stuff spray-foam (for sealing the gaps between the drywall and tile in the bathroom ceiling,) 1 tube marine-grade silicone caulk (for rain-proofing the back threshold,) 1 roll foam caulk (which I'll stuff in the crack before applying the silicone,) 1 roll of tubular vinyl gasket (for attempting a waterproof seal on the lower back door, thus banning rain influx forever,) and 1 bag of spice drops (because we never get out of that place without spice drops. I don't eat them. Don't look at me.)
Accompanying this initiative is a decidedly pleasant peaceful feeling, leading me to believe I may, finally, be reaching some sort of emotional accord with this house.
I'll be honest--I've entertained the notion for years that I'd run away...nay, that I MUST run away...to Eastport (popularly known, locally, as The Maritime Republic of Eastport.) It's just across the drawbridge from Historic Annapolis, and has held the role--in my daydream--of the place which would shake me out of the Alzheimer-caregiver 'am I eighty years old, or what?' doldrums.
But now let's be really honest--I would still require a house. It would still require maintenance. I would still be in charge of the maintenance. I would still be an Alzheimer caregiver. Life would not suddenly start to happen in new and surprising ways, and I seriously doubt if Clarence (my cross-eyed muse,) would improve in work ethic by any measure just because of a change of residence.
Those things are pretty much true. But I attribute my improvement in attitude to factors other than logic and reason. All the road-tripping I've done this Fall has, and will be, a big help. And I do believe that fixing the downstairs shower drip was--in a weirdly out of proportion way--a breakthrough moment. (Thanks to brother-in-law Fred, who was big help with that project.) Somehow, I've acquired the feeling that, by tackling maintenance bug-a-boos one on one (and even very slowly,) I am establishing an alpha position with this house that I never required prior to Jeff losing his powers. So, in a way, this house is a little like a big dog over which I had no control, so I wanted to give it away and get a puppy instead.
If it is well-maintained and orderly, it no longer feels like a box in which I am trapped. If I know I CAN sell it if I want to, I no longer feel a panicky compulsion to do so.
Thus, the latest bag of Clement Hardware goodies. Next up: weather-seal the back door. Staggered, in the interest of covering all the bases, with reading Bill Bryson to Jeff, eking out a line or two of my book, getting the heck out of here once in a while, and not-cooking.
Who knows? Cooking may be the next dog I stare down. But I doubt it.
(And have I mentioned that a new kitten is moving in here next week? Because apparently our 3 existing pets aren't needy enough? Stay tuned...)
3 comments:
Title for next book "The House Whisperer"
Have you got "At Home" by Bill Bryson yet?
It came out Monday 10/4 and I got the hardback and 13 CD audio book at Barnes & Noble immediately. I'm now enjoying both (the CDs having been ripped to iTunes), sometimes listening, sometimes reading a bit I missed on the audio, sometimes following along in the book while being read to.
I'm an immense BB fan, and this one is definitely up there with his best efforts, akin to A Short History of Nearly Everything for humorous informativity.
No, I don't have it! Must check Amazon right away!
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