Forty hours with benefits, a leaky ceiling, and flowing with the ocean...
I flew back last Saturday, looked at Fidget, lighter from a much-needed conversation with my parents. He said I looked less burned out, less angry than when I had flown from Florida before. I finally felt as though there were some things said, some compassion given, and an agreement met. I used all of my interpersonal training. I left Florida feeling lighter than I can ever remember.
Then I worked way too much. Because that's what I do.
I put in my forty hours this week at the Kangaroo Hut, learning the full-time dayshift job that was finally granted to me. My benefits started on Sunday, even though I still need to meet with HR to figure out exactly what we're talking about here, but at least there's some insurance coming to me.
I tumbled home last night, knowing we needed to pack and drive to the ocean. Not only did we have to pack, but I had to clean Sadiecat, as well as make our bed and tidy up the bedroom a tiny bit so Fidget's best friend could spend the night as Sadie's doting godfather. We cleaned and packed, arranging things in the car without a full blown argument about anything. I was dirty and grimy, a bit tired, but knew I'd be invigorated once we landed at the condo.
We arrived around midnight, toddling in with a rolling bucket of our clothing and other sundries we'd need for the next three days. Fidget turned on the water and I leapt into the bathroom, needing to pee after our drive.
And promptly almost took a header into the sink.
The ceiling above the tub was leaking, and leaking heavily. Then another leak was in our closet. Then there was water damage coming in the walls on either side of our bed. Which resulted in calling maintenance, a little old condo manager jumping on our tub to pull down saturated ceiling tiles which crumbled, and shoving a lamp back up into the ceiling. She finally awoke our upstairs neighbors, the ones that went to dinner, had a late night shower, and then busted their diverter. Which ended up flooding into our bathroom ceiling.
After that excitement, I finally crashed into bed around 0200, exhausted from my 40+ hours of work, weird sleep the night before, and now this bathroom debacle. I awoke around 0830 this morning, hearing the occasional drip into our closet.
Today's been rainy; there's too much water everywhere today.
However, all is not lost. We're enjoying the forced-day-indoors, as I wrote my 16 post cards and toddled them downstairs to the box. It's still unsure exactly what we're doing, but I'm looking forward to a whole lot of nothing so I can finally reset my brain and launch into this new full-time life.
We're arranged for a kettlebell orientation, I have carpet scheduled to go into my parents' condo, and I plan on getting back to the gym classes I missed for so long. We'll settle into the more solid routine of my working, his going to school, and our house running so much more smoothly than it has at least in the past six months, if not two years.
I'm excited with the now solidified schedule: no more mandated swing work, finally free to get to the gym, finally getting a couch out of our dining room. I've made a chore list to try and get us to accomplish things this month so the house will run better as we continue to adjust to him being home, me being at work, and seeing how we meet in between.
Today, it's raining. But tomorrow should be sunny. I'm looking forward to getting back in that water, feeling the grit of the sand as it naturally exfoliates this tension I've had for the past two years. I might swim, I might float, but I know there will be sun and salt in my hair for a moment.
In that moment, Kangaroo Hut won't exist. Waiting for the Board's decision won't exist. My un-mulched garden will not be an issue. I won't worry about my broken car door, my broken parents, rehabbing the condo, trying to make that long trek north. In that moment, there will be no shame or guilt, or worrying about our health or how to balance our money. Groceries won't be an issue. My credit bill won't be coming due.
To fight against the ocean is futile. The ocean will take you where it wants you to go. And in that moment, when I'm floating, when I'm fighting to get out, I won't have those concerns. I'll pull that salty air into my lungs, find my legs, come tumbling out of the surf and launch myself with these legs that haven't ran for months. We'll run out of that ocean demanding our attention, and I'll have to come back for those worries and concerns.
But in that moment? When the ocean has me? I'll be both free and captive. I can't look at the condo with the missing ceiling tiles and leaky ceiling. Where my checkbook is or those busted jeans or the box of wine I'll nurse because of budget. Where Onyx sits, a little more broken than he was this time last year. Where my cell phone has passive aggressive text messages and work emails, reminders about gym membership and condo fees and bank balances. I'll float how my body was designed to float, bobbing between the waves and letting the current take me where it wants, and I'll end up exactly where it wants me to...
... out of breath, drenched, but exhilarated it gave me respite for awhile.
Then I worked way too much. Because that's what I do.
I put in my forty hours this week at the Kangaroo Hut, learning the full-time dayshift job that was finally granted to me. My benefits started on Sunday, even though I still need to meet with HR to figure out exactly what we're talking about here, but at least there's some insurance coming to me.
I tumbled home last night, knowing we needed to pack and drive to the ocean. Not only did we have to pack, but I had to clean Sadiecat, as well as make our bed and tidy up the bedroom a tiny bit so Fidget's best friend could spend the night as Sadie's doting godfather. We cleaned and packed, arranging things in the car without a full blown argument about anything. I was dirty and grimy, a bit tired, but knew I'd be invigorated once we landed at the condo.
We arrived around midnight, toddling in with a rolling bucket of our clothing and other sundries we'd need for the next three days. Fidget turned on the water and I leapt into the bathroom, needing to pee after our drive.
And promptly almost took a header into the sink.
The ceiling above the tub was leaking, and leaking heavily. Then another leak was in our closet. Then there was water damage coming in the walls on either side of our bed. Which resulted in calling maintenance, a little old condo manager jumping on our tub to pull down saturated ceiling tiles which crumbled, and shoving a lamp back up into the ceiling. She finally awoke our upstairs neighbors, the ones that went to dinner, had a late night shower, and then busted their diverter. Which ended up flooding into our bathroom ceiling.
After that excitement, I finally crashed into bed around 0200, exhausted from my 40+ hours of work, weird sleep the night before, and now this bathroom debacle. I awoke around 0830 this morning, hearing the occasional drip into our closet.
Today's been rainy; there's too much water everywhere today.
However, all is not lost. We're enjoying the forced-day-indoors, as I wrote my 16 post cards and toddled them downstairs to the box. It's still unsure exactly what we're doing, but I'm looking forward to a whole lot of nothing so I can finally reset my brain and launch into this new full-time life.
We're arranged for a kettlebell orientation, I have carpet scheduled to go into my parents' condo, and I plan on getting back to the gym classes I missed for so long. We'll settle into the more solid routine of my working, his going to school, and our house running so much more smoothly than it has at least in the past six months, if not two years.
I'm excited with the now solidified schedule: no more mandated swing work, finally free to get to the gym, finally getting a couch out of our dining room. I've made a chore list to try and get us to accomplish things this month so the house will run better as we continue to adjust to him being home, me being at work, and seeing how we meet in between.
Today, it's raining. But tomorrow should be sunny. I'm looking forward to getting back in that water, feeling the grit of the sand as it naturally exfoliates this tension I've had for the past two years. I might swim, I might float, but I know there will be sun and salt in my hair for a moment.
In that moment, Kangaroo Hut won't exist. Waiting for the Board's decision won't exist. My un-mulched garden will not be an issue. I won't worry about my broken car door, my broken parents, rehabbing the condo, trying to make that long trek north. In that moment, there will be no shame or guilt, or worrying about our health or how to balance our money. Groceries won't be an issue. My credit bill won't be coming due.
To fight against the ocean is futile. The ocean will take you where it wants you to go. And in that moment, when I'm floating, when I'm fighting to get out, I won't have those concerns. I'll pull that salty air into my lungs, find my legs, come tumbling out of the surf and launch myself with these legs that haven't ran for months. We'll run out of that ocean demanding our attention, and I'll have to come back for those worries and concerns.
But in that moment? When the ocean has me? I'll be both free and captive. I can't look at the condo with the missing ceiling tiles and leaky ceiling. Where my checkbook is or those busted jeans or the box of wine I'll nurse because of budget. Where Onyx sits, a little more broken than he was this time last year. Where my cell phone has passive aggressive text messages and work emails, reminders about gym membership and condo fees and bank balances. I'll float how my body was designed to float, bobbing between the waves and letting the current take me where it wants, and I'll end up exactly where it wants me to...
... out of breath, drenched, but exhilarated it gave me respite for awhile.