Sunday, March 10, 2019

To sleep, perchance to dream. …

Exhausted, I tell you, simply exhausted. That’s how I woke up this morning. No, it wasn’t the change to daylight savings that did me in, although Sophie did not sleep as late as I’d hoped. No, it was the dream.

You see, my daughter Megan’s house will be demolished tomorrow, to make room for a new house on the same spot. Preparation for this day has been intense—sorting out twenty-some years of accumulations, deciding what to keep and what goes, planning for life n a two-room guest apartment for her, her husband, and their two teen sons. It’s going to be tight, and as of Saturday there was still some furniture in the house, though a cabinet-maker had dismantled kitchen cabinets and granite. She assured me they were almost ready and would be by Monday morning.

A part of me feels I should be in Austin with her—for moral support. The sensible part of me knows I would be in the way and just be one more thing for Megan to worry about. So early this morning I was in Austin in my dreams—oh, those early-morning dreams! Most of the family was there, and the house still held way too much, including some of my best pottery (which I don’t have anymore anyway). Dogs and a goat were underfoot (they have one dog and no goast), and I was badgering son-in-law Brandon (me? badger?) for value estimates of some items so that I could file my income tax (a problem that has nothing to do with Brandon and everything to do with another of my brood).

Then I had to go find Scooby (poor Scoob crossed the Rainbow Bridge some seven years ago so I have no idea what he was doing in Austin). Jamie went with me, and we met with bankers and lawyers (back to the tax question, I guess) and all my old anxiety disorders came back to haunt me.

And then Sophie barked at me in a demanding tone, and I was back in my cottage bedroom. Got to call Austin today and check on them.

I just learned tonight that the demolition tomorrow will not be the great dramatic event I expected. I asked if they would bulldoze or implode, and Megan said neither. They will take it down piece by piece to save the foundation. The contractor has done a great job of protecting trees, etc.

For some reason I feel very sentimental about this demolition—there go twenty years of memories. Megan said tonight after all the work they’ve done to empty the house, she’s more than ready. She’s not as sentimental.

After my exhausting sleep, I really needed a nap this afternoon. Settled down, and not ten minutes later Sophie barked at me. I sat straight up in bed and in my meanest voice said, “No! Absolutely no way!” For good measure I shook my finger at her (can’t you just see the mean old lady?). She left, but turned around to look at me with an expression that clearly said, “Don’t you think your reaction was a little over the top?” Yeah, it was. These are tense times. Isn’t it great that I have no bigger problems in my life?

It is, in spite of all else, Sunday night. Dinner was steak hache with porcini butter and salsa verde, tiny oven-roasted potatoes with rosemary, and salad with blue cheese dressing. A collaborative effort--I did all the prep, Jordan watched over the potatoes as they roasted, and Christian cooked the steak patties. I worried a bit about this great and complicated experiment, but it turned out great.

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