A mess

Our basement laundry room is absolutely horrible.  To the point where we have to cultivate delusion and denial just to get on with the day-to-day.  It’s been horrible for a long time.  There’s no way I’m going to post a photo.  But just to paint a loose impression:  water leaks in when it rains.  There’s moldy drywall and, as of this morning, there were bags of ingredients for organic fertilizer that had gotten wet, one of which had rotted open and stunk (the cottonseed meal).  Also a pile of partially full paint cans that at one point I left out for someone from Craigslist who said they come by and pick them up but didn’t.  Instead they got wet in the rain and rusted and I took them back inside.  Also: cobwebs, random glassware, a safety gate with missing parts, really shabby camping gear (the stuff we actually use is upstairs), rocks, beach glass, a tupperware full of ceramics destined for a mosaic project + lots more crap.  Ick.   So anyway, today, thanks to the miracle of screen-casting, instead of going in to campus to hear Sam’s lecture I just dropped off Goobie at daycare and went home (after a nice family breakfast at the Wild Mountain Cafe- Whiz worked from home today because he had a dental appointment).  And then for four hours I sorted through crap in the laundry room, filling the trunk of the Passat with stuff to take to Goodwill including all the rusty paint cans (I heard from the Whiz that you can take those to Goodwill now).  I also mixed up a batch of organic fertilizer and applied it to the garden beds, swept up filth, vacuumed cobwebs, moved stuff around more strategically.  It’s not ready for an after photo yet but it is considerably better.  And I feel considerably better too.  Like I dumped some psychic baggage.

I’m not exactly peaceful though.  Whiz and I had a fight at dinner out of the blue after a totally nice day together.  Then he went upstairs to put Goobie to sleep (after some kind words to me luckily) and fell asleep himself up there.  I still feel unsettled.  The gist of the fight was that we have almost no time alone together (my point), Whiz’s counterpoint being impossible for me to reconstruct.  He doesn’t disagree.  Yet somehow it leads to a fight.  Why we can’t just agree that we have too little time alone together?  Even if we can’t do much to fix it.  At least for the time being.  I don’t know.  I wonder why it isn’t more important to him.  I wonder whether I’m creating problems that don’t need to be there.  Finding things to complain about when really I should just be happy.  I’m jealous of Nie Nie who goes to bed with her husband every night even though they have four kids.  It was my mistake to slip into co-sleeping because it was an easy way to handle night feedings.  Now we seem to be stuck with the current arrangement.

Sigh.  In other news (and somehow this feels related to both of the preceding paragraphs): I fell in love with a house today.  Goobs was asleep when I went to pick him up from daycare so I went to a nursery and bought my mom a euphorbia for the blue and white pot from Goodwill.  When I returned Goobs was STILL asleep so I ended up at a nearby open house.

Really the pictures convey absolutely nothing of the appeal of the house.  It was very dated and showing signs of a little water damage here and there, but OH MY LORD ALMIGHTY, THE VIEW!!!  The main floor had a big living room/ dining room and kitchen that all opened up onto a little deck and a huge sweeping view of the sound.  The Olympics. . . ferries. . .  sunsets. . . you could just imagine the distant pod of orcas surfacing to breathe.  There were other houses close on either side but it felt very private because of the way everything oriented.  If I had that house I would never ever want to leave.  Seriously.  Dinners, morning tea, writing, playing board games, yoga, baking cookies.  Everything against that phenomenal backdrop.  It stuck some primal chord in me.  THIS is where I want to situate my family.  Also: all three floors have the view.  The top floor has three bedrooms.  The main floor has one that would make a perfect office in addition to the large living room, dining room and kitchen.  The bottom floor has a sprawling family room with a fireplace and kitchenette as well as a separate room attached by  french doors that could serve as bedroom.  Mentally I installed my in-laws down there.  They are 79 and 80 and we have very recently initiated a campaign to get them to relocate out here.

I was still a little giddy over it when I got home.  The Whiz took one glance at the flier and dismissed it outright.  $729,950.  Almost three quarters of a million dollars.  It’s like he takes offense that I would be interested in anything so clearly out of our price range.  After he went to bed I did the math and concluded we’d have to make payments of almost $4K a month on it.  It’s totally out of the question.  Yet my mind keeps nibbling at it.  If the Whiz’s parents sold their house. . . If I got a full-time job. . .

It’s funny to feel such a strong reaction to a house.  I remember when my mom fell in love with a street of dreams house when I was little.  I felt scornful of her.  For a long time the only possibilities that tittilated me were related to careers in wildlife conservation.  But now my priorities are different.  When I walked into that house I immediately saw my people in it.  Extended family living downstairs, big casual meals in the dining room, dinner parties, late nights with girlfriends, sleep-overs, art projects, baking, games, hobbies and homework with our children (yes we had more than one) at tables by those amazing windows.  An office for Whiz to work at home.  There’s not much yard and I wasn’t particularly excited about remodeling.  But those rooms are absolutely meant to be filled with people!

It’s late. I’ve gone on for much longer than I intended.  Just in one of those moods I guess. My heart feels all swollen and bruised and I can’t seem to quiet my mind.

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