I’m in the thick of home building and designing, from sinks to cabinet color and hardware. What size and material of beams do I want? I hadn’t a clue. But Greg, our builder needs the front and back porch decisions stat! Well, wait one second, and let me ask my trusty Facebook group of other people building houses to see pictures of what they did. Greg, I want 8” x 8” cedar rough-cut pillars with a stain.
Next question?
After three hours of such questioning from him, I’m spinning. It’s that feeling after pressing your forehead to the butt of a baseball bat and spinning in circles at a kid’s birthday party.
Then, in my downtime (gluttonous for punishment, I suppose) I sneak peeks at websites like Wayfair, Pinterest, and Home Depot. Ideas about sinks fill my mind. Like stainless steel, fireclay, or granite sink? Single or double bowl? 50/50 or 30/70? Undermount or overmount? I’ve never had to care about things I care very little about!
Ooh, I’m excited about the bench window seats in our bedroom! Greg has the idea of putting drawers underneath them for storage, and he will also get custom-made cushions. That way I won’t have to go online and frustratingly not find the dimension I’m looking for.
We’re visiting a flooring store tomorrow to pick carpet, hardwood, and tile. Something about choosing things to never have to choose them again is liberating.
I took a walk to show my stepmom Evelyn’s school via FaceTime. It’s a six-minute walk, and on the way, I showed her the pasture across the street and all the properties that belong to my sister-in-law’s family. I appreciate knowing our little country road will stay private and safe for a long time to come.
I saw a blue-headed skink skittering along the patio earlier. They remind me of geckos, but with a neon blue tinge to their tail area. I loved seeing geckos on the hostel walls when I vacationed in Costa Rica. There’s also the paw-paw tree that grows in this area. It bears fruit similar to a mix of mango, banana, and passion fruit with oblong, shiny, and tropical-looking leaves. I hope to plant a few later this year.
Maybe it’s my perspective or an objective reality, but my writing has been poor lately. I feel like I’m dictating to myself over my shoulder rather than pricking and dripping my blood on the page. I don’t feel good about it. Even though I won’t let myself apologize to you for it, I feel compelled to; I’m sorry. I’m also sorry that I don’t know when or if I’ll improve. Am I forever hobbled like from a tractor injury? And will I accept my cane as part of my newfound reality?
My writing is filled with unanswerable questions.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 