High Summer in Everyday Ramblings

The clematis are thriving like the wild sweet peas this year. I was thrilled to see the deep red purple sweet pea flowers unfurling this morning at the garden. My “meadow” is just beginning to bloom too. A dark blue cornflower is about to burst open. After thinking I was basically going to have to write off the plot this year, I am still getting a lot of enjoyment out of what is there.

I don’t have a clue about why it is taking so long to finish the work in Fred. I think the contractor has the upper hand and is working away at it between other more lucrative jobs. They didn’t do anything on Friday, nor did I hear anything from anyone about anything.

Most Honorable and I were over there looking to see what tools are needed to take apart the L-shaped Ikea workstation I bought in 2010 when I started working from home. He is going to see if we can borrow a hand truck to move the full-sized file cabinet I have in the same room. It will need to be emptied. It is full of Mr. Finch’s poetry and my old paystubs and half used boxes of Christmas cards.

This is going to be a full reckoning with my “stuff”.

We were musing yesterday on the day I moved in. Mr. Finch was with us and almost completely useless, more in the way than anything and Sammy did get out of his transportation unit and much scrambling to retrieve him ensued. Sammy loved Mr. Finch; they were bonded. What we didn’t know at the time was how seriously ill Mr. Finch was. Yesterday, trying to imagine how that day must have been for him made us all sad.

We were thinking about moving Sammy because we were thinking about getting Carlo in the carrier to get him back to Fred. He is so traumatized these days and he won’t know it is a short happy trip back home when we put him in the carrier. Yesterday he came out from behind the microwave but wedged himself under the cabinet on top of the refrigerator and stayed put.

He is no dummy. He is perfectly positioned there to keep an eye on everything and even get his belly rubbed but no one is grabbing him. I have a cat sized dose of gabapentin in the fridge and the plan is to isolate him in his room and have me, just me, put him in his carrier.

Of course, thinking about the impending intimate encounter with all my “stuff” means an impending intimate encounter with my past. I don’t spend a lot of time there as a number of you have pointed out. I know that it is a rich tapestry of experiences that I dip into from time to time to tell a little story here and there and I do have feelings that arise, but it is a passing thing, like mist. That said, I miss the most challenging Mr. Finch every day.

Our relationships continue though. Even when the other party is gone. I have robust living relationships with Diego, Sammy, Stella, my sister, and Mr. Finch. But there is something about that physical connection, touching things, worldly things that one shared that surfaces reflections and a kind of reconnection. It is work, emotional work.

Next weekend, maybe even on Tuesday, the holiday, (my second least favorite, I despise fireworks and potato salad, sorry), I think I will start that work. There are things I can organize for shredding and sorting that can begin when all those gross men aren’t there. (The electrician is handsome and charming, but he has been and gone.)

Me thinks I am in for a bit of a wild ride.

As if what I have been through lately hasn’t been one?

Last updated July 02, 2023