It has long been my issue that my filter is far too good. Like the Meg Ryan character in “You’ve Got Mail,” my struggle is going mute in the face of outrage. Like she finds, in the movie, I truly acknowledge that most of the time, my filter helps me not to be cruel, but there are a lot of times when my inability to speak out in the moment just means that issues don’t get addressed when they should.
To torture a metaphor.
The theme for this week is “enough, already.” Mom went shopping on Saturday, after we got our hair done. To her credit, we did not repeat the situation where I told her to call me, she said “oh, just come back at x time— I’ll be done then,” and I came back and she was another 45 minutes, and then set me up to shame me to strangers. I don’t normally go off when angry, but as I possibly wrote about, I was sure she was going to get my rage all wrong, and if we were going to fight about something, I wanted it to be about the thing I was actually mad about.
I think the theme for these times in my life is “marathon, not a sprint.”
When we bought the house, a couple of years ago, they warned us that the wiring was aluminum in our area when the house was built, and that aluminum wiring can be problematic for a host of problems. It can even be a fire hazard (such a comfort when you’re buying a house with wood siding.) We got an estimate on mitigation, and yesterday, we started the process of replacing it.
I got up early yesterday to pick up dog poop in the backyard before I started getting ready for work. I knew that yesterday was my chance to take the dual compost tumbler that I’d spent all Sunday assembling in the living room outside and finish assembling it. (Assembled, it’s 85 lbs and would not fit through the doorways.) We’ve been forecast for rain today and snow tomorrow for awhile, and yesterday was clearly my window. And I was pretty sure that the composter needed to live in the dog poop zone.
When you’re coming out of a season that’s overwhelming, when the list is always getting longer and it feels like you’re not even breaking even, just fighting not to fall so far behind that things grind to a literal halt, a little progress feels like a revolutionary act. Like you’ve got a fairy godmother suddenly on your side. I hate to overstate it, but it’s pretty exciting stuff.
Today, my boss mentioned me (and the other people who worked on the product that launched today) in the announcement of the product launch. Which is more than she did last time.
The grass that died because my sprinklers still aren’t fixed is starting to have green patches in it, after weeks of my hand-watering it.
When I got off work last night, I knew mom’s computer guy was going to be at the house, working on the upgrade that needs to be done by tomorrow. After days of running into road blocks, I recommended that. I think he’s probably doing more than is strictly necessary and I hope she’s not spending hundreds to make it happen, but honestly, I’m glad it’s off my plate and I’m not going to criticize the person who’s doing it. She trusts him and feels good about it, and I’m glad to be out of the equation, there.
Since we weren’t going to do our regular Wednesday thing, I thought I might mow the grass.
The computer guy looked at me, impressed, and said “you literally just got home from working all day and you’re mowing the grass?”
I smiled and said “We looked for a self-mowing lawn but it didn’t work out. It turns out that if I want the lawn mowed, I’m going to have to do it.”