So I was laying in bed last night, trying not to drown…I’ll spare the details, but let’s just say my wad of tissues never left my hand for the six hours I lay there. I began to think, God bless the person who invented Kleenex. Because the worst thing to use to blow your nose is toilet paper. You know, you just can’t make it work. It’s too flimsy, even the good brands. It disintegrates too easily. And you can’t carry it around with you…no neat little packs of toilet tissue to slip into your purse or pocket.
Then my mind wandered to all the things on my list today. Meetings, scheduling, call calendars to populate, emails to return, an evening open house to learn about the road construction heading my neighborhood’s way…my blog that has been dormant for a couple of weeks now…the trip planning we have to complete…on and on and on. When this happens in conversation, it’s called “hot-wiring.” You know, the not uncommon habit of leaping from one subject to another…seemingly random, but really with connectedness that makes sense from inside my head.
I lay in bed, rehearsing all my to-dos, registering a hundred details flying through my brain. I used to write letters in my head at night, or talk out arguments. So many times I’ve thought everything out, gotten just the right wording. And then I fall asleep. By morning I can barely remember any of it…the careful wording, the perfect answer that I crafted at 3:30.
This morning, I was flying. Made muffins to deliver to friends, made breakfast, made lunch to take to work, put dinner in the slow cooker, ironed, showered, collected myself and got out the door. I dropped Rob off at the clinic (we only have one vehicle here in Ketchikan) and got to the office for a day of busyness and mild chaos.
This evening, we went to a meeting hosted by the city engineering department. We went to learn how the bridge we live on will be replaced, a section at a time, and how this will impact us for months. The project is scheduled to begin in a year or two. They’re in the very early design phase, the time when they invite the homeowners to view the plans, ask questions, and be alarmed or reassured, depending on your point of view.
I’m reassured. The bridge has homes constructed on both sides of the street, and it only has a few more years…maybe a decade…of usable life. So replacing it is not an option, it is a necessity. It will be a good thing in the end. The utility poles and wiring will disappear below the surface of the new bridge (we were assured), dramatically improving our view.
I’m alarmed. Rob thinks we won’t be able to sell the house until after this process is completed…he thinks no one would want to buy it now with a lengthy and inconvenient construction project looming. (Did I mention there will be a stretch of a “few” months that we will not be able to park at the house? We’ll have to park somewhere waaay down the street, beyond the construction zone, and walk, in the rain, (13 feet of rain a year here) with groceries or whatever we’re wagging.)
I’m pooped. We listed this house last year, without one offer materializing. My husband says we’re at a point in life when we can’t afford to take a big loss. It’s a great house, but a lousy market. He says I’ll have this house till I die. I tell him that’s not true, unless I’m hit by a bus. But it’s hard to transition when the biggest thing in the way is not moving. Literally, we are not moving. We are thinking about moving, but we’re not doing it. At least not now. Maybe not for the foreseeable future. I have to think about this for a while. And I’m tired of thinking about it.
Going to be a long night. Well, the sun rises about 3:30 anyway.