We all have our moments

And mine was today on the way to work. I have one friend whose emails always wax poetic about the "healing waters" of Silver Lake and the magical nature of where I live blah blah blah. She sent me a meandering email yesterday that just fried me. Yes, I live in a wonderful place. No, the waters of Silver Lake do not heal anything. Being there makes most people feel better emotionally. But get this: it's my home, it's where I live. We all live somewhere. This is where I live, and it's a harsh life at times. It's hard work to live where I live. It's incredibly wonderful and I'm a really, really lucky person to have the life I do, but it comes at a price. I have a heavy weight that I carry--I am responsible for a big house, cords and cords of firewood, a yard, pulling brambleberries, a septic system, getting to a work in a place that's 30 miles away, and I have the same responsibilities in life that everyone else has (not to mention 2 dogs and 6 fishes).

I'm not whining (or maybe I am), but this morning on the way to work I just felt overwhelmed and I started to cry. Maybe I gave myself permission to let my guard down because I have 6 days off starting tomorrow so I can breathe. Or maybe I've set my standards for that time off too high, having made a huge list of things I hope to get done. Who knows. Anyway, I'm feeling vulnerable (yet again). I always feel responsible to that house, as if I've been entrusted with this thing and I owe it good care and maintenance--and I'm not always a good caregiver. It rewards me every day.

Ken has instilled in me this great sense of responsibility toward machines and equipment, which has reinforced something I already sort of felt. If you take care of them (i.e. treat them right) they will reward you with good service (i.e. treat you right) and many years of service (i.e. be faithful to you). No, I'm not anthropomorphizing--I'm very careful not to do that (especially with animals and cars), but I think of machines and houses as things that deserve respect and should be taken care of. Thus my sense of betrayal towards my house. My car, well Tess trashed that before I made the first payment. I continued to abuse it cosmetically but mechanically I try my best.

In preparation for this wonderful, proposed productive time off I visited Lowe's yesterday and spent a lot of money I don't have. I bought paint for my bedroom. Big project is to paint my bedroom. People who are obsessive, as we know, latch on to something and hold on for dear life. This came to me weeks ago and I've not wavered from it. I'm planning to paint the trim around the windows a brownish-maroon (Martha Stewart color) to look like a frame around the wonderful vista I see from my bed. Anyway, I had to buy everything--brushes, roller, pan, pole. Did you know paint costs $25 a gallon? When did that happen? It's been 13 years since I've purchased paint. Anyway, I'd better paint the bedroom first, before I get distracted or lazy. Then I can at least be proud of a completed project. Biggest obstacle is moving the bed that Jamie made (proudly) held together with nary a nail. It's held together precariously with pegs and when Lin and I moved it downstairs and reassembled it we came out with an extra peg. It's not a stable bed and I've no idea how I'll move it. But I'm really looking forward to having a bedroom that's White Scallion. Like White Stallion only an onion. Vaguely green. I showed all my paint chips to Bill and Fred and we selected this one. Poor Bill is colorblind and they all looked pink to him.

Today is my last day of work. Wrap things up. Tomorrow is the annual meeting of our umbrella system, in Lake Placid. Workshop on Google something, luncheon, speaker, HOME. Off until Thursday. I'm entering the great void of dial access. I'll try to keep in touch but it's not easy. Happy Memorial Day. Use lots of bug spray. With DEET, it's the only thing that works.