So yesterday I sewed up the ruana, and even made a fancy little woven triangle to fill in the back neckline where it's sewn together. And I'm very happy with it. It's soft and warm and very draping and the coloring is hard to define but it looks like it could be walking in Mirkwood Forest and I really hope that someday I'll actually get to wear it.
And I'm a little sad that I'm through with it. I'll leave it on display in the guest room until the next time I let Dingo the Flying Squirrel out to play. I don't like the idea of those tiny sharp claws running over it, or the equally tiny but uncontrolled bladder leaking. Then it will get folded up and put away until some glorious day that it's cold enough to wear it and then see if I go anywhere (Walmart, look out)
So today I was in the post-book, post project doldrums. And having problems with my phone - for some reason texting is blocked. I called their help line - among other things, they asked if I had tried to fix it by texting their self-diagnostics. I hope they couldn't hear my eye roll. They couldn't fix it today and I was running out of patience (they told me I would have to call from a second phone and I don't happen to have one hanging around) so that's tomorrow's problem.
Rob had texted me so I called him to let him know that I wouldn't be texting back. He said that a picture of Bob and Zeke had popped up in his FaceBook feed and he wasn't certain about posting it to me because I might suddenly remember that Bob was gone and it would bother me. I told him to do it - because there isn't a minute of the day that I don't think about Bob being gone and it's sweet to think that other people remember him from time to time. It was from when Bob and I went to visit them in Naples and we met Zeke for the first time. (Bob was playing with one of Zeke's games).
After having spent the last several days working on the ruana, I decided that today I needed to clean up the detritus from that, and the house in general.
Because my house is a mess. It's always been a mess. Growing up, my room was a mess. My desk at school was a mess. It's just sort of the way I am. And Bob was even messier. Not horribly - I have been to houses where you weren't sure what you were stepping in and there was no where to sit, but generally messy. I'm used to thinking of the house as being a mess.
But I've been steadily tossing things for the last two years, and, oddly enough, I realized today that the house wasn't that bad. An hour or so of tidying up and it was OK. That felt a little strange, but good, but also a little empty and a little sad. Sometimes I wonder who it is that is living here now.
Tomorrow I'll start another book (going to co-read Good Omens with Ebaida), get my texting working again (I feel so 21st century now that it feels weird not being able to text), and maybe think about the next project.
No comments:
Post a Comment