An imperfect path forward is still forward

"There's more mouse crap than insulation up there," he said, grinning. He thought he was funny. He wasn’t. But then no one uttering these words to the owner of such a described space would be funny. I chuckled anyway. And although we should analyze why I sometimes prioritize the feelings and opinions of others over my own, instead, let’s focus on my current situation, that of preparing to move into a house with an R value of mouse poop.

It’s been a long, twisty road, one that’s gone through a global pandemic, the death of two parents, job loss, community loss, actually who are we kidding? It’s just been a lot of loss, loss, loss. Oh, and four different addresses.

See, other people got through the past few years by adopting a dog or learning to bake bread. M and I have done it by moving.

In 2018, we left the home where we got married and had spent 20 years. Why? It’s hazy now. Something about the verdant ground cover in the suburbs.

I’d known I would miss our house but deeply underestimated the gut punch of grief that subsumed me. And the new place was not all that. The basement flooded. (The week we closed.) The AC died. (The day we moved in.) The walls peeled. (No primer.) The cabinets joined in. (Ditto) The floor warped. (Heavy rain and/or angry gods.) And the neighbor with her multiple security cameras would frequently drop by to report what she’d seen on our property when reviewing the footage. Now, I’m not going to say she really was part of the Stasi, but she did have a pack of German shepherds. Anyway, the final straw was when the breakfast place three doors down turned into a five-night-a-week outdoor concert venue.

So you see why I often say the pandemic lock down didn’t win the “Worst Thing” award. (Though M’s parents both dying in 2020 was a very strong contender!)

Anyhoo, after the pancake place changed their slogan to “We will rock you,” M and I moved far, far into the suburbs. Oops. Too far. So, not even ten months in, we turned around, put the house up for sale….

And bought this.

Sigh.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I’ve ignored this poor little blog for a while and would like to start anew. But it seems disingenuous if not downright disconcerting to ignore the debris just behind me. So I’m drawing a map of where I’ve been. I’m locating myself, figuring out which way is forward.

A friend once told me that sometimes to get to a good place you have to travel bad roads. I may not like the rodent droppings just ahead but I know where I am now, and that means I also know where the shopvac is.