14) The Clownfish In The Aquarium

“That’s definitely not the original corner stone…”

“Yeah… I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Nah… they take em out, rip everything in there out…”

“I mean it’s intact on all sides and you can’t just slide a new corner stone in…”

“They definitely got into this one…”

You sigh loudly… “Well it was great meeting you, but I have to get back to work…”

And then you head inside leaving the corner stone guy outside. He was standing in your house… church… earlier. Wanted to know if you were starting a church because he was looking to join one and you told him, “No, I’m not even religious,” that this was your house he had just walked into, and the dog was going to go absolutely ballistic if he heard him and that ya’ll should go outside. It was really strange to have a parade of people just walking into your home… and I mean you understood the whole church thing and the curiosity… but the deliberate ignoring of the ‘BEWARE OF DOG” sign, posted on the front door was beginning to get to you.

“Well, I’m not afraid of dogs… he can come down here…” said the corner stone guy.

“Well I AM afraid that he would bite you, so let’s go outside.”

“Oh it’s ok… I don’t care if he bites me…”

“Like what in the absolute fuck is happening here that this guy is cool with being mauled by a Rottweiler after walking into your house and not taking the hint,” you think in your head, and out loud you chuckle and say, “Well I do mind if he bites you… let’s go outside…”

And then he wanted to debate you on corner stones and ask if you were nuts for living here because surely the utility bills were astronomical… and meanwhile all you wanted to do was work on the place, not have strangers walk in and then argue about corner stones and tell you that you were nuts (when you know that well enough already…).

In less than a week nearly a dozen people have just walked right in. It’s an issue that you’re trying to figure out how to resolve, on account of the dog and people just showing up in your living room… and while everyone agrees that the best course of action would be to just lock the doors, that’s not practical considering how often you and your family are coming in and going out… so now you’re brainstorming a solution to the whole strangers walking into the house thing.

The whole thing is weird. Like you knew that people would be reading your blog and looking at photos of your home online… but the spectacle that you have become in real life, had taken you completely by surprise.

The people just walking in… the endless questions (I mean you don’t mind most of the questions really, aside from people asking if you’re nuts), and then there was the lack of curtains.

That’s a thing you quickly realize… especially at night, your home becomes like an illuminated fish bowl in a darkened room. People stare through the windows as you walk down the stairs. You do your best to remember this when you pick out pajamas (not too skimpy) and bathrobes (you’re fully aware that you’re now an attraction on full display… ). A clownfish in a tank… you’d like to think a mermaid… but all that talk about you being nuts… kinda makes you identify with the clownfish these days.

“So you got two kids then? The boys? We see them running around in there. We were watching you…”

And it’s sweet, kinda… but a little weird… all these strangers peeping in, watching… You make a mental note to procure a sewing machine ASAP so that you can begin making curtains… you want to make them double paneled, not only to help keep out the cold in the winter, but also so that they look pretty on both sides… and to do so, you’re pretty sure that you’ll need at least 90 massive curtain panels. That’s not a quick job…. And while it’s not THE priority… you’d like to quell the neighborhood curiosity with a little bit of fabric.

So curtains… but before that, you’ll need to wash all the fabric which is going to be another issue since the washer and dryer were both DOA. The washing machine was stained with an old brown grime, the little detergent slot filled with a fetid oily water. If you could drag the thing over the pit in the laundry room and up the questionably safe temporary stairs and out the french doors yourself, you would have. But for now… you’d have to put up with the stinky washer.

The pit in the laundry room floor… wasn’t really a pit per se’, but more of a scar formed by years of unmitigated water intrusion. The entire floor on the northern side of the basement is cut away from the wall the beginning of a fix, a good six inches to several feet (depending on how close one was to the laundry room) wide… the old joists rotted clean out, whered a feeble attempt to address the water issue had been made and then abandoned. Now you had a gash, some concerning floor sagging, and an inkling that maybe the basement was going to be far more work then you had planned on…. Which was problematic considering that this space would serve as a main part of your family’s living space.

The dumpster was going to be arriving the next day and David and Jackie had already begun tearing out most of the moldy basement drywall, except that the more they removed, the bigger the problem got and unfortunately it soon became very clear that not only was there a ton more work than anticipated, but that the floor on the southern end of the basement was also beginning to look more and more questionable with each passing day.

The work was backbreaking. All of it those first few days… weeks really. You all worked from sun up, till sun down… no sitting at all except a quick break to eat, or use the toilet… your couch was packed up, and it didn’t matter anyhow. You were walking some 5-10 miles a day, 30+ flights of stairs, and over 20,000 steps… and that was on top of all the physical labor you were all doing.

By the time night came, a hot shower felt heavenly and when you were done… you didn’t fall asleep… rather you collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted on a visceral level you had never quite experienced before.

There was cleaning to be done, bats to wrangle, trees to cut, squirrels to contend with, the fucking bees… the basement floor… the moldy stench… and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the leaking roof; the leaks visually confirmed on the first day, an old Tupperware bin, strategically placed under a rotted hole in the ceiling… a steady drip, drip, drip… a reminder: more to do… more to do… more to do… no sitting… ever… You’re humming now… “Oh there ain’t no rest for the wicked… money don’t grow on trees… I got bills to pay… I got mouths to feed… ain’t nothing in this world for free… cuz there ain’t no rest for the wicked…”

“My body is wicked fucking tired,” you think.

“I ordered us new appliances,” you tell your husband over a wheelbarrow run to the dumpster.

“Good,” he says… “We needed them.”

You nod your head in agreement… “Yeah I got us a dishwasher, new gas stove because I am terrified of that old scary ass one that’s there… that thing is going to blow us to kingdom come… of that I am certain…”

“Ok…” David chuckles, “That’s fine… the gas doesn’t really turn off when you shut the stove off, so that’s a good call.”

“Don’t tell me that.”

He shrugs. “I disconnected it and turned it off at the valve, so we’re good.”

“Well in any event, dishwasher, stove, and a washer and dryer… I got them all ordered and they should be here in less than a week.”

“Awesome,” he says, “thank you for taking care of that.”

“Yeah, no worries, I got us a membership to Costco and ordered everything. I am so excited about the washer and dryer… walking to the laundromat is getting a bit tedious.”

“For sure,” he says.

When you moved you sold both of your vehicles, you decided you’d be better off buying a car suitable for northern conditions up north, but now you were vehicle-less (you still hadn’t picked out a car). And while that wasn’t a big deal, everything was pretty walkable, it became a big deal when you were trying to launder your family’s daily load of laundry… extra stinky and heavy with all the sweaty clothes.

So annoying in fact was the whole laundry thing, that you were finding you’d put it off a bit longer than you should… today had been one of those days… a brief reprieve from the manual labor, you put on real clothes and cute shoes and then hoisted up the laundry onto your back like some sort of pink high heeled, croc wearing pack mule.

“On second thought,” you said to Jackie, the two of you sweating in the late afternoon summer sun, your heavy packs of laundry slung over your backs, not even quite half way to the laundromat, “wearing high heels was a pretty fucked up decision on my part…”

“You always pick THE BEST shoes for the occasion,” which is a joke because you’re known for never wearing appropriate footwear… sandals on ladders, ballet flats hiking up mountains, high heels to walk nearly a mile with a massive bag on your back.

“I guess I really do feel like an ass…”

Jackie laughs…

And then, “that was a pack animal joke…” you say…

“Oh I got it…” she says…

And suddenly there’s Jeremy. The neighbor that always seems to appear out of thin air. He’s about your age, and he tells you that he’s a little obsessed with the church and will do a bunch of research on it for you, which sounded really sweet initially, but now on account of him always hanging around, is something you hope he’ll forget about.

“Hey ladies… you going to do laundry?” He asks.

“Yup… got all our laundry right here…” you pat the massive bag on your back, sweat dripping off your forehead.

“You’re looking for an excuse to go listen to the band next door at the bar, huh?” He asks.

“Nope… just doing laundry… have a good night,” you say.

And then when you’re out of earshot… “Do we not look like middle aged women lugging massive bags of laundry to the laundromat? Like… would I really carry 40 fucking pounds of reeking dirty laundry, in the sun, in heels, a whole damn mile because as a 42 year old woman I need an excuse to go to a bar?”

“Hahahaha… right… I mean I know that when I want to go out, I sling pounds of nasty, dirty laundry over my shoulder and say, ‘good thing I have this laundry so I can go listen to a band’…” says Jackie. And you’re both laughing now.

*****************************************

“This shit is so fucking expensive…”

“Yup… tell me about it… that’s why I always brought my laundry to your house to do it,” laughs Jackie.

“I can’t believe it… $30 dollars to do our laundry…” you’re both walking back, empty bags over your shoulders. “Well at least our washer and dryer will be here in a few days…”

Except that when you get home, you have an email letting you know that your appliance order from Costco has been cancelled due to your membership being null and void.

“Simple mistake,” you think and you resubmit your membership, it’s approved, and you go and re-order your appliances except that the new ship date isn’t next week but rather three weeks from now. “Well son-of-a-fucking-bitch,” you laugh, “you gotta be fucking kidding me… this is something…” and you have to laugh because, well it is kind of funny, really. “Situational humor,” you muse.

Except the order is cancelled again, and again, and again… even after you call on the phone and are assured it won’t happen again, that your account was new and flagged for fraudulent activity due to the large order placed, you find it more and more humorous, “I’ve never tried so hard, to give someone money in my life only for them to keep giving it back to me,” you laugh with the associate on the phone… “honestly, it’s kind of hilarious…” you say.

They tell you that you’re extremely patient and that you’ve got a good sense of humor.

And that night when the bats come in again… (once again zero nights since a bat incident)… the cats knocking the bats out of mid air… your husband quickly scooping the little mammals into Tupperware tins… ‘bat boxes’ you call them… you suggest that you have “Bat Boy” and “Bat Girl” baseball jerseys made for the cats… because you’re beginning to realize that if you’re going to get through all this demolition, and MIA appliances, and bats, and squirrels, and the fucking bees and the trees… and the nosey neighbors arguing with you about corner stones, and people staring at you all in your jammies like exotic fish in a big tank, that you’re really going to need to lean into this good sense of humor of yours.

“And that”… you think, the next morning when the sun comes up hot and bright and the little swath of bees turns into a massive churning swarm… your daytime problem… bats at night… bees (and squirrels and trees and floor pits and neighbors walking into your living room unannounced) in the day… “That good sense of humor is going to be key here…”

And you would not be wrong.