the countdown

Somewhere out there, in the blur of the outside world, I gather that the Mueller report did not deliver what we'd hoped it would - viz, send the damnable crook to prison for life. But that's all I know, because I spent the weekend and today spinning in my reno hampster wheel. Have not heard the name Jody WR, the Liberal trying to elect Andrew Scheer, for days, that's a blessed relief. But all day, I thought it was Tuesday. I gather it's not. A student due to come this afternoon caught the frantic tone in my email voice and, with sensitivity, postponed. Many lists at 3 a.m. last night. I came up with a brilliant solution to an awkward window too strangely shaped for a blind: cardboard. And it works.

You hadda be there.

Today, Kevin, Ed, and Jake got through the last bits - repairs here, finishing there, a giant pile of stuff for the dump. Nicole came to help clean; she vacuumed my office, which is still packed with boxes but at least is now breathable. We put Great-Aunt Helen's Fiestaware back on the kitchen display shelves, removed not because of the reno but because of simultaneous termites.

Usually when I travel, I start many days before sifting through clothes, cleaning, matching, deciding. I leave Thursday and have not yet begun that process, instead am preparing the third floor for the tenant tomorrow night and the next tenant in a few weeks and trying to make the rest of the house presentable. And it is, more or less. The place has begun to feel like a home again. It just does not feel like MY home. When I go upstairs, I'm not sure where I am. I've been climbing those stairs to the second floor hall for almost 33 years and now enter a completely different space. It's disorienting. Good for the brain, I'm sure.

Yesterday, dear friends Suzette and Lynn came to see and talk and offer support. Suzette has been with me throughout, giving advice and counsel on colour and design, so it was gratifying to share the near-final product with her. "Quirky and elegant," was her verdict.

And tonight, my dearest Wayson took me to dinner. He had just been to the doctor and received a diagnosis; the memory is not good. But he's funny and charming as always. At the restaurant, when the waiter brought the cheque, I said, gesturing to Wayson, "Mr. Moneybags is paying." And Wayson said, "I hope he arrives soon."

I will email him often while I'm away and make him dinner as soon as I get back.

Tomorrow a doctor's appointment, more cleaning and arranging, a visit from Anna and the boys and my oldest friend Ron. This is always the way it is, the extremely busy time before a departure, even only for 3 weeks. With a little added intensity this time. I did not realize what a tense person I am; I have taken all this stress hard.

It was really cold again today, after a few mild days. It's 7.30. I want to go to bed.