I’ve been down for the count, and I’m still not feeling hot, but I’ve got a plan.
And plans are important, folks.
It started a week ago, crazy mid-back pain that crept up my spine, lodged in my neck and reached around the front of my noggin and tightened down.
It was right after my mom sent me an email detailing her travel plans to Europe. She’s taking my kiddo and it didn’t take long for me to figure out that the pain had a lot to do with that, along with some other issues.
I have had plenty of time to think – contorted in bed, lying flat on a yoga mat, and generally miserable. And this isn’t just “my kid who I adore is leaving for a month” – it reaches far more than that.
In my office, well, more specifically on my office ceiling is a quote by Henry David Thoreau, author of Walden Pond. And while his real story isn’t as lofty as his words, the ideas he wrote about continue to resonate with me.
Especially this one…”I went into the woods to live deliberately. To front the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what they had to teach. And not, when I came to die, discover I had never lived.”
I have tried to live by those words more and more each day – but let’s face it, occasionally we get side-tracked.
As I cleaned a client’s house this morning, my head and neck pain at bay thanks to some strong pain meds I don’t particularly like to take, I found myself asking the same question that I’ve been asking for most of the past week.
“What is it that I want?”
The answers were weird, but hey, that’s okay. I’m a weird kind of woman, so my brain generates weird answers.
I want to tear up that gross-assed fucking stained carpet out of my office and the library.
That was answer #1.
I’ve hated this carpet since the day I moved into this house. I hate carpet in general. Give me hardwood floors and a nice area rug and I’m a happy girl. Ever since we pulled up the wall to wall carpet in our house in Belton, and I saw the nastiness that was underneath, I’ve been a huge fan of hardwood, laminate and tile. Anything but carpet, seriously, anything. The only thing that has stopped me has been my husband’s disapproval. He doesn’t want it done because he knows the wood underneath will need work and, like most men I know, he’s got some severe allergies towards more work.
And despite the fact that my neck is aching and my head feels like it is being twisted in a vise, guess what I plan to do this next week? The way I see it, it will be just in time for the bulky item pickup on October 3rd that I scheduled a couple of months ago with the city. My plan was to empty out more crap out of Cottage East. A couple of extra rolls of carpet won’t be a problem at all.
I want to use the Airstream NOW, not 5-7 years from now.
Em is turning twelve in another week. Our time with her is limited and I dream of getting on the road and driving our little 1956 Flying Cloud Airstream down the road to campgrounds galore.
But it needs work. Plenty of work. We need to fix windows, replace the flooring, figure out a heating and cooling system, fix the old refrigerator, install a water heater, fix the gas stove, and generally make it livable.
And in the long list of things to do, it was rolling in last, directly after Cottage East and Cottage West renovations – putting it at around 4-5 years out before it could be used.
I’ve got about six years left with my kiddo, and I plan on enjoying every minute of it. I want to hit the road with her in tow and visit states I have never seen, and go on adventures.
The other problem? We don’t have a truck. How do we tow an Airstream around without a truck? Hm…
So I looked up what the weight was for the Airstream. It’s older, which means its actually lighter than the newer ones. At 22 feet, it’s just under 3,000 pounds. Then I looked up the towing capacity for my Honda Odyssey van. It can tow up to 3,500 pounds.
I called our mechanic. “Hey Rick, if I bought a Class IV tow hitch, could you install it on our van?”
“Not a problem, darlin!”
I ordered the tow hitch and it will be arriving in a week or less.
This evening I walked a box out to the Airstream. It had a 3-in-1 breakfast station inside that I had purchased on a whim a few months ago. I took some time to look around in the Airstream as the light faded into long evening shadows.
The floors need to be addressed. The original flooring is worn. The original fridge, if it can’t be fixed, could serve as a pantry. We need a water heater if we plan on taking showers, but then again, many travel trailer parks have shower facilities. The solar panels could wait, as could a/c and heat if the heater doesn’t work. We would need to reconstruct the twin bed (currently a foldaway table and built-in seats) for Em. And we need to fix some windows and hang curtains, re-install hardware, and make sure we have a working toilet.
In other words? It’s doable.
Once we have the hitch in place, I plan on buying new tires and hauling it over to our mechanic if he is willing and have him take a look at the undercarriage.
Letting Go of the “Have To’s” and Re-Focusing My Priorities
I’ve spent a lot of my life prefacing actions with the words “Well I have to [fill in the blank].” At as I ease closer to my 50s I am questioning more and more whether I “have” to do anything.
I don’t have to agree with my eldest child or listen to her bullshit.
I don’t have to slave away at a job with zero hope of ever finding better.
I don’t have to wait until my child is grown and gone to have fun now because “planning for retirement comes first.”
I can move and rearrange my life, our possessions, and our plans in a way that brings us joy now as well as later.
And this relates to writing as well. I had been focused most of this year on creating content for my readers, feeling the “have to’s” crowding in my brain until the words refuse to come out and everything is stilted and contrived.
As the pain in my body has continued to build, as I lay on my yoga mat and try to imagine a life without pain (emotional and physical), I have realized that I need to listen more and talk less.
Asking the question, “What do I want?” yielded three answers today. Two of which I will be acting upon. The third was me wanting exposed brick walls inside of this lovely house of mine. Remove the plaster, expose the brick and cover it with a clear glaze. I think it will look lovely, but I am also realistic. I will have a tough enough time removing the carpet from the two rooms upstairs. Once I’ve dealt with that (and the ramifications of an unhappy husband) then I can consider the next step in my “I want” plan.
Besides, I have a travel trailer to work on.
Next step…getting power to the Airstream before our Halloween party!