Sunday, October 4, 2009

No Point

You know sometimes how a simple home repair, say, like replacing a leaky pipe, which should take, oh, maybe a couple hours, turns into the home repair from hell which finds you cutting the paneling of a section of wall from floor to ceiling, and then cutting through plaster and lathe, and then cutting away boards that you have no idea why they are there except in the old days things were built solidly to last, never mind the fact that the house was built in 1860, and the plumbing went in long after? And then you are on the second floor following that pipe by pulling up a commode and pulling up floor boards and then pulling up more and more floor boards as you try to follow where that pipe will finally end up? And then you have to remove the whole pipe, section by section, because you don't really have a lot of room to work? And repeat trips to Lowe's. At one point, I am holding one fitting and explaining to the man that I need another fitting just like this, only female, and oh, yes, I also need a galvanized nipple. Without blinking he said, "How long?" and I said, "Good gravy I don't even know what a galvanized nipple is, let alone how long I need it." And so he called my husband because we only have one cell phone which was in Tim's pocket. But I digress. What was I saying? Oh. Yes. You know how sometimes you have those home repairs that you begin thinking "Oh, this is going to take a couple hours," but six hours later, you've finally got the pipe replaced with pex tubing, and you've still got to put the second story bathroom back together because the tenant cannot be without a bathroom. (Thank goodness she was away for almost the entire afternoon as it was). So then you put the bathroom back together, and finally, at 9 PM, you are finally able to head out the door, where interestingly enough there are three police cars two houses down and someone is being taken away in handcuffs, which leads you to fret a little about how your newest tenant, just moved in that day is taking all this banging and clanging in the walls, and floors being hammered in place next door and police busts out front. Boy. I'll bet she's just glad she moved into our apartment. You know how some days are just like that?


It's been a long day. Tim worked hard and I held lights, and held on to pipe wrenches with all my might, and I ran up and down two flights of stairs to fetch this thing or that.

When I fell into bed tonight, I thought 'the only good thing about some days is that they end.' I fell asleep. I dreamed that I was lying in bed, wide awake, next to my husband who was angry at me. I got up and went down an open staircase to a library. It was a huge library with lots of books, and my husband came down to see what I was doing, and I looked square at him and told him that I thought he was the most selfish person I knew. Even as I was telling him, he was headed out the door, and up the stairs back to bed. I turned and went the other way into a huge open hall, with a huge fireplace, and atop the mantle a huge tall mirror flanked by two narrower mirrors not so tall. Everything looked shimmery and blurry and I realized that I was still wearing my reading glasses. As I took them off, two large black dogs came running up to see me, laughing like dogs laugh, tails wagging furiously. I petted them both and told them how glad I was to see them, while they pressed in closely, and finally knocked me to the floor in their enthusiasm. I was laughing right along with those happy dogs, as they crowded in to lick my face.

I woke up in agony. My shoulder is bad tonight. I got up, put on my bathrobe and headed downstairs for some drugs, wondering why I would have dreamt such a dream. Freud would have a good time with that one. I realize also that the husband I was so angry at (and who was so angry at me) was not the husband I have now. That makes me glad. I marvel that the dream seemed so real that I could feel the dogs' breath on face.

The point of this? I have no clue. Except the drugs are kicking in, and I need to negotiate my own stairs and head back to my own bed while I still can.

Good night.


Bill said...

Wow! What a story! Glad you wrote the dream down before you could forget it.

And I'm really impressed that you live in a house built in 1860.

No such houses exist around here. A really old house here is like 1930 something.

Bush Babe said...

Hope the drugs chased the nasty dreams away (although the dog bit sounded kinda reassuring) and also the pain... at the risk of nagging... REST woman!

Debby said...

We live in the woods. Our own home is probably 40 years old. This is a rental. You can see pictures from last fall ( , although we've made a lot of changes. It's not even the same color.

Some dreams are so vivid that you wake up thinking "?????!!!" This was one of them. The painkiller made me sick, and I spent the night in a bed that swirled and spun, and falling asleep for brief snippets, dreaming strange dreams and then waking back up. I cannot for the life of me imagine people paying money for these drugs on the street. Who wants to feel like that?!!

Kelly said...

Wow! What a dream!!

I have vivid dreams and often wake up thinking how glad I am that it WAS just a dream and not real.

WhiteStone said...

Yah I took ONE painkiller the night I returned home from surgery. I tell you, that night I took a three-week trip to Canada in my hubby's pickup, traveled from place to place, studied out how a "real" log cabin is made, one that was more like a huge lodge than a cabin, evaded someone trying to steal the pickup..yada, yada. The journey seemed to last forever and I do believe I could have written it down in a novel to rival Tolstoy's "War and Peace". I decided enough of that! And never took another one. This is a drug that street people love. I'm thinking to myself...this is a bit toooooo much.

WhiteStone said...

P.S. We sold our rental this summer. Yayyyy! No more midnight worries about the state of the plumbing, furnace, wiring, etc. And no more 6 am snow removals. Huzzah!