Long Night
It seems like a simple operation, stuffing everything you own into boxes, cramming it onto a trailer, and hauling it to the new place. It would not be moving without mishaps.
One of our snake cages, a custom lockable plastic number by Jeff Ronne of Boaphile, blew off the trailer and got smashed up. Did I mention those are expensive? They are. And it will take at least a month, probably more, to replace it, as each is made to order.
We were supposed to get a new stove this weekend, but I got a call on Friday explaining that the stove came in very badly damaged, and they were sending over a loaner until next Saturday. I thought that was really cool of them. The loaner arrives, but the gas connection is cracked, so it's not useable either. The good delivery gentlemen haul the ancient electric stove that came with the house out of the garage and re-install it. Hello, there. I believe we've met.
We got a chimney service guy to come out and clean out our fireplace and chimney and restore the cracked back of the firebox, which was expensive but necessary to prevent damage to the outside of the house. The bad news is that the wonderful iron fireback my husband got me for Christmas doesn't fit, and we will have to exchange it for a smaller one. It's not Morningstar Hall yet. Not until we have the pirate ship fireback!
There is more, but I'm too scattered to remember all of it. I'm tired, all my stuff is in boxes or scattered all to hell. My innards are upset, and I'm constantly tired and edgy at the same time. I am behind on everything, and I wanted to make things or write things for people who will now have to wait because, well, I'm fried and beyond fried, and that hurts because it makes me feel like both a bad friend and a weakling.
But I woke up this morning in the bedroom I had painted myself and I saw it for the first time in the morning, the dawn of the shortest day of the year, and the room was filled with golden light. I stared up at the beam in the peaked ceiling, the room glowing all around me, and I was happy for that moment. We decorated the primary tree, and that was pleasant, too.
Tomorrow I start painting my studio, my study. It's going to be green below, and a sort of pale green above, with wooden trim and a gold chair rail. Because I like chair rails.
This has been a bad year for many of you, and a hard year for me.
The new light is coming in, though. Things will turn. I wish you all the best, all the warmth, all the fire that is yours to claim.
One of our snake cages, a custom lockable plastic number by Jeff Ronne of Boaphile, blew off the trailer and got smashed up. Did I mention those are expensive? They are. And it will take at least a month, probably more, to replace it, as each is made to order.
We were supposed to get a new stove this weekend, but I got a call on Friday explaining that the stove came in very badly damaged, and they were sending over a loaner until next Saturday. I thought that was really cool of them. The loaner arrives, but the gas connection is cracked, so it's not useable either. The good delivery gentlemen haul the ancient electric stove that came with the house out of the garage and re-install it. Hello, there. I believe we've met.
We got a chimney service guy to come out and clean out our fireplace and chimney and restore the cracked back of the firebox, which was expensive but necessary to prevent damage to the outside of the house. The bad news is that the wonderful iron fireback my husband got me for Christmas doesn't fit, and we will have to exchange it for a smaller one. It's not Morningstar Hall yet. Not until we have the pirate ship fireback!
There is more, but I'm too scattered to remember all of it. I'm tired, all my stuff is in boxes or scattered all to hell. My innards are upset, and I'm constantly tired and edgy at the same time. I am behind on everything, and I wanted to make things or write things for people who will now have to wait because, well, I'm fried and beyond fried, and that hurts because it makes me feel like both a bad friend and a weakling.
But I woke up this morning in the bedroom I had painted myself and I saw it for the first time in the morning, the dawn of the shortest day of the year, and the room was filled with golden light. I stared up at the beam in the peaked ceiling, the room glowing all around me, and I was happy for that moment. We decorated the primary tree, and that was pleasant, too.
Tomorrow I start painting my studio, my study. It's going to be green below, and a sort of pale green above, with wooden trim and a gold chair rail. Because I like chair rails.
This has been a bad year for many of you, and a hard year for me.
The new light is coming in, though. Things will turn. I wish you all the best, all the warmth, all the fire that is yours to claim.