I’m thinking about my house, and how long it’s taken me to get around to a resolution to tackle some of its remaining projects myself. I wonder if a house is ever just a house, or if every dwelling place absorbs and reflects the struggles, angst, joy, and satisfaction of the lives being lived in it. Maybe they all do, or maybe it’s just that the art and craft of houses becomes an indelible feature of any place shared with Jeff Clement. Nah, I bet it happens with other people too.
After painting the hall this week, I had to replace the bulbs in the ceiling fixture which apparently decided to pop in celebration. It took two of us--me standing on a ladder bearing some of the weight of the metal and glass square thing with my head so my arms didn’t collapse into jello, while Olivia stood on a counter stool and applied the two tiny screws that hold it in place. It is a typical arts & crafts fixture--designed with such heavy materials that it can barely support its own weight if not handled just so. Not for practical people. At least not for practical people without access to LED bulbs. I installed LEDs. Maybe, like with the too-high-to-reach fixture in the family room, they won’t need changing for 20 years.
You would think that someone like me, who has installed >50% of the existing hardwood floor, tiled the bathrooms, and corked the kitchen floor could now do some finishing up with relative aplomb, but it’s been convenient to think of it as above my skill level.
Well, parts are, for sure. But I can do a lot. I just was having trouble overcoming the instinct to farm it out and run away. This wasn’t supposed to be Emily’s solo house, and it’s taken some processing to think of myself as the rightful and capable heir to Clement’s Folly.
Not that sticking it on a sluggish real estate market and high-tailing it to Eastport would have solved the underlying condition. I’d still have woken up, looked around at 4 walls, and said “what the hell am I doing here, and what am I gonna do now?”
Nope, might as well own it. Might as well emerge from caregiver limbo in place, one project at a time.
3 comments:
Are you doing OK?
Thank you Prof, I am well. Jeff does not seem to recognize me (or anyone) at all anymore. I go most days to help him with a meal, but mostly he dozes.
I am reconstructing a life of doing things, and will probably be inspired to post about it as time goes on...
I have only followed your blog for about 3.5 years when my mother went into her late stages of Altzheimers, so I do not know what your early blogs were like. However, judging from the title you chose, I doubt that you intended it to be about your life and a disease. I think that the disease hi-jacked your blog, and that perhaps you might find some happiness in reconnecting with your original purposes for the blog and writing for fun.
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