I think that I think that this whole new house/retirement thing ain’t working. At all.
To wit, here’s a picture that I just took of the Bama/Training room*:
Remarkably, that looks just like the room looked a week ago.
This sort of thing is happening all over the house; now that Ethel has gone back to work, nothing can happen that requires her input – and when Ethel goes back to work, she completely goes back to work. She seems to be getting more….okay, I’ll say it; obsessive about that job as time goes on.
So since she’s unavailable, nothing can go on the walls or on the shelves, because anything that does go on the walls or shelves will then have to come off the walls or shelves and then be put wherever she wants it when she finally realizes that something went on the walls or shelves without her approval.
I’ve gotten a lot done in the garage – heck, I’m actually parked in there. But that all stops now, as well.
Another problem with the Bama room – there’s no pool table in there. And guess what? There’s not going to be a pool table in there. Turns out that, some time after I ordered the pool table from Costco, they cancelled the order. No text, no email – nothing. They just cancelled it and never told me why. Huh. (We suspect it might be because there’s no Brunswick dealer nearer than Missoula. Okay, cool – but maybe they should have told me). I’m currently waiting on a chat session for somebody at Costco to explain it to me. (Why does my Costco ID have twelve digits? Do they really expect to have a trillion customers soon?)
The dogs – we’ve been training them to go do their business on a patch of pea gravel on the north side of the house. However, it’s not working smoothly. And, of COURSE it’s not working. We have Huskies – the most willful, contrary critters ever spawned by Satan. Just now, I took ’em outside for pee and poo; Abby stopped one foot short of the pea gravel, on the (expensive) sod, and emptied her bladder.
When I fussed at her, she jumped on the pea gravel and gave me The Look.
The stock keeps going down. Bills keep coming in, bigger than the original quotes.
And The. Floor. Is. Covered. With. Dog. Hair.
I would say “I don’t know what we were thinking” but let’s be honest – we said it over and over again. We knew that we were getting this rich, dark hickory, and we knew that the Husky hair would be ridiculously visible on it. But we did it anyway.
And it’s just as bad as we feared.
I’m wondering if we can sell this place at a profit and go to Mexico. But I’m not liable to suggest that; it’s going to have to occur to her, without my input or suggestion.
Speaking of selling – the townhome has now been on the market for ten days, and it hasn’t sold yet. Our last three homes sold inside of a week. I suppose I shouldn’t be freaked out about it; but in the middle of everything else going on, it just sort of seems like a whole bunch of things going wrong at once.
That must mean that there’s something the matter with my spiritual status. Unless, of course, it’s Ethel’s spiritual status that’s gone wonky; if that’s the case, there’s nothing I can do but live under the burden of shared karma.
And try to find a local pool table.
*our friend Grant calls this the Process room, and that actually makes sense – but sense there’s no current Process underway, I’ll stick with the awkward, ugly terminology.