Memoir of My Last Nerve.
While looking through a stack of old Better Home and Garden magazines, I came across an old Christmas issue that featured Gingerbread Houses.
Gorgeous aren't they? Do you know what I was thinking while looking at these confection houses? "Screw that, I'm going to make a fucking CASTLE next year." Mind you, I've never attempted to make so much as a Gingerbread Man, let alone a Castle.
Honestly I think I've gone and shot off all my nerves. This weekend I stood on the last one, jumping up and town as if it were a trampoline. "Weeeeeee!" It made me a little nutty. I'm selling my house in less than a year for something a little roomier out in the country. The pros being more land and living closer to my family. The cons being that the nearest city is forty minutes away.
While out driving around, looking for land for sale, I realized how difficult an undertaking I'd signed up for. Roads in my Mom's area can start off lovely, a horse farm here, a ranch house there. Then they start to deteriorate. Suddenly the farms and houses give way to burnt shells of dwellings and mobile homes that teeter on the edges of cinder blocks. And somewhere, smack dab in this mess no less, is the property I'd been so hopeful about five minutes earlier.
On top of land, I'm stuck with the mind blowing decision of finding out what kind of house I can build for the small amount of money I can afford to put in it. Do you want a one story? Can I have a two story? Tub and shower? Double sinks? Front porch? Brick, cement, stone or vinyl siding? Lake or no lake? Eat-in Kitchen? Vaulted ceiling? Cozy lofts? I love you Hoop. You are my heartbeat. But damn it, "I don't know. I don't know what I want for this house. I don't know what it will look like. I don't know what I can afford. I don't know babe."
Last night he looked at me with worry across his forehead, "Are you OK?" "I'm just frustrated." Thank God for his patience. I look around at the current house and see the grout that needs to be redone, the walls that need to be painted, the carpets that need to be cleaned, the overgrown lawn, the dings in the walls and the dog scratches on the doors and I almost lose hope.
We were invited to a Super Bowl party last night at Hoop's Grandmother's house. I really did want to go. But that last nerve twanged and told me that all the furniture we'd moved from Hoop's apartment and had thrown haphazardly into the spare bedroom needed to be sorted... NOW. Bless Hoop's heart. Despite my sincere pleads that he go without me, he stuck around and helped organize everything. The house looks amazing.
So for the moment that last nerve is satiated. I'm feeding it mass amounts of coffee and chocolate and keeping it warm by sitting on it, hoping it won't hatch into a full grown temper tantrum later. Whenever it stirs, I start thinking of all the wonderful things there are to look forward to. I'll be able to see the family more than twice a month. The dogs will have more property to roam, ending the days of playing "Find the Landmine" in the yard with poop. Hoop will build a deck and we'll drink sweet tea in the sun. And soon the other nerves might resurrect themselves, making the last one less lonely and volatile. Let's hope.
Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I used to own turtles when I was little. They were great starter pets.
Hoop: I'd love to have a tortoise.
Tink: One of the huge ones?
Hoop: Yeah, the ones that live over a hundred years.
Tink: What would we do with it?
Hoop: We could pass it down through the generations
Tink: Or I could sit on it and read.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Tink: Is this your hammer?
Tink: What the hell happened to my hammer. It wasn't as long and it had a smaller head on it.
Hoop: Well you don't need that hammer anymore. You have a bigger one now.
Tink: Yeah, I guess.
Hoop: You can use my hammer anytime.
Tink: *Keeps looking around room*
Hoop: Is this the biggest hammer you've ever had?
Tink: We're not actually talking about hammers anymore are we?