Wednesday, February 18, 2009
There's a Hole in the Wall
It feels kind of weird to look around and think, this belongs to me. That is my, my very own, broken gutter that is cascading 4" of rain into the walkway between the garage and the house and that is my very own possibly dead tree that might come down on my roof and that is my unfinished wood floor that will just have to stay unfinished until such time as I am both feeling rich and prepared to pack up the whole upstairs and move to the basement or the West Indies or something for a week to ten days. And it is my very own awesome orange kitchen and my very own stairs and I will probably live here forever. That is a completely weird feeling: I have never thought about living somewhere forever before.
The longest I have ever lived in any one house in my entire life was the six years I spent on Pennsylvania Avenue and when I moved there I had no clue that I'd stay so long. It just sort of happened which, actually, could be said of my life as a whole: no planning, just happening. Here I am doing both - the house happened and now I'm planning to stay. I suppose that means that I had better clean up the dogshit in the backyard (I know, there's a business in town that does just that but I can't quite justify the fees, even though they are not high, but still. I have this gym membership I don't use, you know.) and put in some metal screens. I'm fine with all of it - I love coming home and knowing that I can cut a hole in the wall or write on the windows any time I feel like it, even if I don't. It is awesome.