rest your head for just five minutes
Last night in the dark I reached out and my hand landed right on the bathroom lightswitch, and I thought, this is my house.I know where the lightswitches are, and I know how the floors feel under my bare feet. It takes me fifteen minutes to water all my plants in pots, not counting the ones in the garden out back – the purple pole beans I eat right off the vine, and the long skinny eggplants.
Huge progress has not been made with the house, to be honest. It’s summer and I’ve been outside and out of town. But little projects are happening one by one. PD and I pulled all the fake wood paneling off the dining room and kitchen walls, and then we pulled off the fiberboard that was hiding behind that. What used to feel like one small dark room now feels like two big bright ones. In the wall-peeling process we uncovered an awesome brick chimney.
Different project days resulted in the construction of a makeshift table for the back yard, and the un-boarding of the door that leads there. We’ve acquired a toaster oven (since the real oven died) and a dozen old Ball jars, now filled with black-eyed peas and amaranth.
And I met with the heating guy who I think will be my Heating Guy, because he was friendly and brought a copy of his license and, unlike the last heating guy I talked to, believed me when I said I don’t like the house too hot. He walked around the basement with me, poking into the electrical box and pointing out possibilities. Maybe next winter won’t be so cold.
Sometime before next winter I need insulation and gutters, at least. And the heating means rewiring, but that’s where it all starts to feel overwhelming. So for now, one small project at a time.
Last week a friend biked by and waved from the street to me on my porch, where I sit to read magazines or talk on the phone. And this week I met my across-the-street neighbor, whose house has no foundation at all. She’s raising the house right now to add a new one, jacking it up a quarter of an inch at a time. That helped me feel my house is easy.
Last night it was hot, an unusual hot for Portland – somewhere in the nineties and dry and still. I lay on my new bed with new sheets and waited for a breeze. All the hot darkness around me felt safe and right.
posted by tortaluga @ 3:05 PM
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