a week to remember, day 3

Millie, 6 a.m. is better than 5:15. We are making progress! Or, is it that we both went to sleep so late last night that the idea of rising at dawn seemed... silly? I had taken my pup for a late evening stroll to Steffi's House. Her first venture inside. I accomplished two things -- I got her acquainted with her future home (she loved it! ...ran off upstairs to explore and came leaping down as if with approval), and additionally, I got to do some measurements. Of course, my set up at the Edge and even in Sally's House is not going to work well in the new place. This in itself is funny, since the same construction company put up both Sally's and Steffi's houses and even in the same year. Much of what is inside one, is a carbon copy of what is inside the other (the cabinets, the fridge, the stove, the fireplace). Though I will say that Steffi's House hasn't some of the shortcomings of Sally's. The flooring isn't as artificial looking, the washer dryer combo isn't the bottom of the barrel, like the ones here which I swear came from the discontinued stack at Walmart. And I love the fact that Steffi's space is small -- appropriate and plenty luxurious, I think, for a single dweller who expects grandkids to sleepover and come over on a regular basis. One open space downstairs (a blend of kitchen/ dining/ living), three small bedrooms upstairs. I had been looking for a house with just two bedrooms, but apparently these are rarely built. Americans like their space.

Add that to my list then:  being American means loving privacy. Physical space around you that others cannot enter without permission. And if you have the money for it, that space ill be big. I have this beautiful book of small houses. I'd always admired them and thought they were both clever and practical. And beautiful! But I have never seen one anywhere. These are custom built architecturally designed homes that make it into magazines and coffee table books (are there still "coffee table books," or is that an idea out of the 60s?), not into our neighborhoods. 

The idea of "lots of space" surely dates back to the years when Europeans arrived on the continental shores of North America, expecting to lay claim to all that they found here. This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land is a fiction. We appear to love privacy more than thinking ourselves to be merely stewards of a land shared by many. And the larger the space, the better. Big cars, big houses, big closets, big fences. At least that is the dream. That it has become less and less attainable is reason for people to feel they've been cheated out of this American idea. And in all honesty, they have been cheated. People here work hard. [Can I add that to my list of Americanisms? I don't know a single Pole whose kid worked summer jobs at mindless menial tasks just to earn some money; I don't know a single American whose kid did not work before graduating high school.]  We have little time off for family or leisure, and at the end of the day, we feel the need to close ourselves off  (in front of the big TV, and I mean big!) to recover. Only recently have we begun to ask -- if we can't even attain a roof over our heads under which we can hide from the rest of the world, what's the point of all that hard work? Well we might wonder.

 

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Another steamy day. Nevertheless, I take my breakfast outside. These are the last porch breakfasts for Millie and me and we both enjoy them too much to be put off by hot weather.

And then she rests. I am so tempted to just drop her off at daycare -- I have accelerated everything now and cant wait to get on with it -- but the little girl needs her quiet on the cool floor, with soft jazz or classical playing in the background. At least that's my take on her morning needs. She seems so... content then. And that feeling then seeps into my soul as well. We are both morning-content!

Eventually though I rouse her and take her over to Happy Dogz. It's July 1st, so I have to drive around and pay rents at the various places for which I still owe rents (a small supplement at the Edge and thankfully the last payment at Sally's House). And now finally I can move some stuff and plant some plants and distribute the chips Ed piled onto the driveway. Inside, the cleaning crew is making sure all is well and that Steffi's House is without any trace of germs or meth or whatever else it is that cleaning crews are looking to eliminate.

 

At 11:30, Ed is free from his various Zooms and appointments and we do some more transporting. More kitchen stuff. And some furniture. This is a bit nuts: I have movers this Friday who are there to do the heavy lifting. Why transport the heavy yard benches, the side tables, the plant stands? 

Because I worked so hard at getting the yard together and they mowed the lawn for me at Steffi's today and I was just dying to see how it all would fit together. And, too, Ed helped me build the bird bath which has a gurgling little fountain to it --- here's a post-installation photo:

And the front porch is taking shape as well and I planted another rose, plus a hibiscus which was damn hard today, what with the heat and the rocky soil, so do you blame me for wanting to finally put the missing pieces in place and take it all in? Because it really has been a hell of an effort! Today was perhaps the toughest of all the physically tough days. The heat was unreal and I had the planting and the watering and the moving of wood chips -- I must have gone through at least a six pack of sparkling water and even then I was totally wiped out.

 

I pick up Millie, we stop for a few minutes at the young family's house. I haven't seen Sandpiper since the trip and he is also a huge fan of Millie.

("I want to hold her!")

 

 

 (Snowdrop, hand her over...)

 

 

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The cleaning crew at Steffi's was less enthusiastic about the state of the inside. It looked more or less good to me, but then I was expecting the worst. It looked dusty to them. The blinds, windows, the shelves of the cabinets. They worked hard and took all afternoon to get the job done. It's such a luxury to have someone do this for me! Tomorrow, the carpet guys will do the carpet washing (including rugs that I carted over that bear many marks of a puppy being house-trained), and in the afternoon the movers will finish packing all that I left for them (mostly books and cleaning supplies). In other words -- we're moving along exactly at the pace I had laid out for this so many months ago! 

But I never anticipated that I would go for the big one: the transformation of Steffi's Garden. Nor did I expect there to be a blistering heat wave as I finished up work outside (well, it's not exactly finished, but getting there!). Not to be throwing out one cliché after the next, but I do feel like if this doesn't kill me, it'll make me stronger. Physical labor at my age is something we don't seek out, but when you're pushed into it (in this case by some internal drive that leads me to do these things), ultimately, your muscles will thank you for it.

tomorrow -- another big day!

with so much love...