Let me see if I can put this together for you. There are a bunch of things happening, and they are like jigsaw puzzle pieces, needing to be connected.
First, there’s a bunch of good stuff. A long desired refinance of our home and some other “found money” have us in a much stronger financial position. Because of this, we’ve
- tossed a sagging, smelly, cat clawed couch and put new furniture in our front room. We’re ready to resume having people over after a looooooooooooooooong period of isolation;
- purchased a quality dishwasher. The old one gave up the ghost years ago, and we’ve been hand washing the piles for longer than either of us care to recognize;
- replaced a toilet. The one across from Joey’s room, which is the one guests would use, was saving the planet by barely flushing. We are having an actual flushing version installed this week.
Meanwhile, a June hailstorm damaged our roof. The roof was old enough that we would have had to replace it in a few years, but now it’s being paid for by insurance. So thousands of dollars in a retirement account can now be held onto for, I don’t know, a freaking vacation?
As the improvements go on, we are finding ourselves less tolerant of the messes to which we’ve submitted lo these many years.
We’re sick of the smelly pets. We are animal lovers but when this dog and this cat pass on, Melissa and I are mutually pledged to kill the spouse who suggests replacing them. Sick of the hair, sick of the “accidents,” sick of the smells, sick of early morning feedings and twilight walks among the mosquitoes of summer and the subzero winter windchills.
We had Joey’s last EVER IEP and we’ll be barely able to contain ourselves until the calendar flips to June 30, 2015, when he is eligible for residential placement. We hope and pray that our love for Joey has shone though on this blog. We adore him and delight in him so often… but we are so #^%()^ ready to have some semblance of a middle aged marriage.
We’ve been eating sensibly and frugally. But last week I messaged Melissa to say, “Let’s just go out tonight.” The house had been cleaned, the roofers were up top pounding away, and I simply didn’t feel like cooking and cleaning up or listening to the hammering and thumping (Melissa had the worst of it – I was out of the house most of the day at work and she endured the noise). And Melissa, who is the most zealous about diet and where the money goes these days, didn’t hesitate to agree with my idea.
We’re tired of it all, almost angrily tired, if that makes any sense. We are so ready to be done with a lot of the 24/7/365 chores that dominate and warp caregivers’ lives, and which make all of life’s normal burdens seem to weigh a lot more.
It’s our God-given work, about that we have no doubt. But like our Lord in the Garden of Gethsemane, we would rather the task just pass out of our hands.
Oh, we’ll get it done, with the Lord’s help. But don’t expect us to be perky or graceful about it over the coming months. The deferred maintenance on the house is just a symptom of deferred maintenance on our selves.