afternoon

I can't read for very long, but being a touch typist, I can type without having to watch what I'm doing, so it's not too hard on my eyes. I'm surprised at how antsy I am. I think of myself as a pretty lazy person, but obviously I fritter away a lot of time reading things (online and off). And one reason I knit is to have something to keep my hands and brain occupied. I'm about to start into this bulky baby sweater out of sheer desperation--if it turns out to be too girly, I'm sure I can find someone to give it to.

My depth perception is all screwed up, and last night while I was putting up dogtoys in the puppy pen, I tripped over a low lattice-panel jump and went all the way down. I caught myself on my arms, but my head kept going. At least I had my head *up*, so I landed on my chin instead of my nose! And i had my mouth closed so I didn't bite my tongue. So again, it could have been worse. It ws one of those moments where you lie there and think "Am I hurt? How bad am I hurt? Okay, I'm not hurt--so I hope nobody saw that!!" So my arms and neck are a little bit owie this morning and my shoulder is NOT happy.

Last I looked, that house shell and its three acres on the very edge of a small local town was still available, but this little series of events has made me think. You always read stories about people who take the risk and everything turns out beautifully and they're wildly happy and have a wonderful place, but--well, I don't usually have that kind of luck (if anybody knows any good rituals for changing one's luck, let me know!), and of course the failures don't make good stories. What if I'd done something like this out there? I couldn't have walked to the optometrist the next morning. I have no family in the area. I don't have any close friends. I'd be really on my own. You read about people like that 97-year-old lady who just got her bachelor's degree or the 101-year-old lady who died from a fall from her favorite horse, and I think, well, 55, that's not old; I should be able to do this stuff, if I can get my adrenals and thyroid back on line again. But the facts remain that I *am* exhausted a good deal of the time, my knees are a wreck, my shoulder isn't healing up the way I think it should be, and I think Ihave to be seriously doubtful whether I could handle all the work that would go into a property like that.

True--the shell is up, so the roof, windows, and siding should be good for the next 10 or 15 years--and plumbers and electricians would be doing the plumbing and electric--so the basic house would be in far better shape than the house I'm in now. I think I could do the insulation--batting isn't hard to handle--but I'd need help with drywall. Flooring I don't know. Plus there'd be planting--someone else would have to plant the windbreak, for sure, and the shade trees and the shrubs along the fence--and of course the fencing and gates--and I'd need a garage/storage shed built, and I'd want a hole cut in the wall so I could have a sliding door and a big screen porch. Hear the cash register?

But then I think--the inside of the house doesn't have to be fancy. It doesn't even have to have inside walls; it could be one big room. And I would so love to live in the country once more, and this might be my last chance. I'd actually envisioned more of an old, small farmhouse with hills and woods around it, but I could encourage birds and wildlife by planting trees and shrubs. I've even wondered if a pond would be possible, something big enough for the dogs to swim in, something frogs and turtles could live in and around. The morning and evening choruses of birds and frogs and toads. Summer evening scents of sweet clover and wild honeysuckle. That clean, crisp winter smell, without the scents of stale grease from McDonald's and Yen Ching.

A little veggie garden, a little orchard (pie cherries, eating and pie apples, maybe peaches), a raspberry patch.

And then I think--a mower. A rotating composter (if this shoulder doesn't clear up, I can't fork compost from one bin to another. A chipper-shredder.

Okay. I'm going to stop brooding and take the Ts out to play. They're so happy to be going out again.