The first day at home started with a bone chilling fight. That would be me in pygamas trying to open a frozen door from the garden, to get to the car and check tire dimensions. Hurrying not only for -5C that my airy home pants welcomed more than my own legs, but also for car workshop waiting in the phone. I mean, why check the dimensions before calling? That would be smart, and that is not allowed in a fluffy warm blanket, in a lazy sunny freezing morning. Right?
Checking on the tires I realize one is nearly bold (front left: yeah, what do you think? Carry a precious weight for driver for the last 10000 km) and one is actually year round. So okay, if stopped by police I get one tire (60 euro) less in fine. Hmmmm… Nä. And the national-wise hunt for winter rims&tires for my bug for a car continues. In the end a set of both is found on a 2 days delivery distance and 500 euro price tag. Hm. Well it is a choice with no choice really ))) What is the price of freedom against its value?? 🙂 and kaching!: the set is eventually on its way.
Sitting by the kitchen table (where else you get strategically close to coffee machine) with the computer and phone, I suddenly realize I am not alone in the kitchen. The sound of quirk-quirk music hits through silence together with another chilling memory of 2 months floor-less kitchen last winter, when field mice seeked warmth (hard to blame, I’d do the same)) in the house and organized thier private water supply by chewing on the howes to a dish washer (that I would probably pass). Last winter, squirking under the sink turned into squirking on(of) the floor when the water level underneath got high enough. We fill the dishwasher twice a day, it didn’t take long… So, with this colourfu picture in my head, I got to search for a screwdriver…
No I know where my tools lay in the house okay. I just don’t know why the repairing company last winter, had to use plastic howes again, and even expecting more occasions of inspection, then screw the floor of the sink closet underneath all the rest of equipment???? I need to be a freaking plomber to get all this shit out and in again!!! A moisturemeter, whatever the right name is. A moisturemeter, mousetrap and a cup of coffee. Yepp. And the screwdriver goes back to its idle. Together with the screws: what’s the point? The floor sits tighter than a virginity belt on a crusader’s girlfriend.
Back to the phone. My old blind dogs morning toilet, there were flakes of blod in urine. Sorry for details. I don’t know if I would rather not learn them, either. I don’t know what I am craving less for now, put on hold on the phone: to get the bill for the veterinar investigation (around 300 euro, kaching!!) or to learn the diagnosis. To hear vet’s honest recommendation or to take the decision… Even if I want to keep calling or not. I don’t know.
No time available until next week. Am I more worried or relieved? I don’t know…
BZEEP! A message. From the handy man hired to fix the water communications in the old ghost house I got as a side project. After faults in the installation that costed a neat and round 1000 euro, I asked him to stay away and wait until I get back. ”I changed the pipes!” – a happy message. He is a nice person actually. ”You did WHAT???” …no answer.
Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four.
Meeting with the bank went fast. My company account is now closed, all services and credit cards are cancelled. Stearing at the finalizing paper from the tax authority, a sudden vivid memory came up: sitting with a bright soul close friend of mine on the day he had to announce his company bancrupt, one year and a month ago. It eas heavy but it was a new beginning; we would go sailing around the world, we agreed. A week later he was sitting on the corner of my hospital bed counting needles in my arm, talking sence into my foggy head about how I should take care of myself. And a week later he himself was gone. Just like… snap. One year and a week ago. He went sailing alone I guess. Maybe it is good we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye and he didn’t ask if I want to follow with. I don’t know.
Even in fase with my senses, it feels so heavy. Serenity, freedom and happiness moments of the last month seem to be compensated against present concerns by unfair exchange rate. One more distant memory from my childhood popped up (is it some kind of freaking memory geizer today???), of me being affraid to be happy. Because each truly joyful moment would be followed by tripple amount of tears: the rule that has proven itself. It wasn’t worth it to allow myself to be happy, it cost too much. God I wish I could forget this now!!
The last jacket of three I bought on my North Cape journey got zipper broken during my regular night walk with the dog as the last accord of the day. In old fairy tales, maid would need to wear out three pairs of iron shoes to get to her destiny, does zipper count in modern interpretation? ) It is time, it is time…