I have always been proud of the fact that I did so much of my own “handy-man” work at my house in Fair Oaks. I installed my toilet, did lots of plumbing, did my own ceramic tile work, scraped paint and wallpaper, and now, maybe because he is aware of my homeowner’s prowess, my brother thinks I should be brave enough to go into the attic during a rain storm and see where the water is leaking into our mother’s bedroom.
When my kids were little we would go on various vacations and I was always trying to be brave enough to get over my own fears so they could have experiences. I had a really extreme fear of heights; although better now. At one time I couldn’t look out of the window of a plane, or walk across a bridge without really freaking out. So when I took Zachary up in an air balloon that was tethered to the ground it was a BIG deal for me. Or when we went to Disney (not sure which one) and we went across the park in the sky cars another big deal. One time I won a weekend stay to Stone Mountain Georgia. They have a cable car that goes up the side of the mountain to get to the top. Just imagine how I fared. I stood in the middle of the cable car, sweaty hands holding onto the rope thing that hangs from the ceiling, eyes shut, trying not to have a nervous breakdown. Both boys were more worried about me than looking out the window. I’m snapping at them to leave me alone and just enjoy the scenery. I mean I’m having this horrible experience for their benefit. At the top I was okay on solid ground (as long as I didn’t look over the side). Well anyway, I have gotten over a lot of phobias for them. And with time I have become less fearful. Flying doesn’t bother me at all, well maybe turbulence makes me start praying, but I can look out the window without fear. I can walk across bridges without sweating (although I do still like the inside rail). I will probably never go in a cable car again in my life, even if it’s in the Swiss Alps and I have no desire to go to the Grand Canyon. I am fine seeing it out the window of an airplane when I fly to L.A.
Doing my own handy work at my Fair Oaks house was more out of necessity. Either I couldn’t get contractors to call me back and/or the cost was too exorbitant for me. So I did things on my own. I read lots of how-to manuals and some of the work I actually enjoyed doing. Scraping wallpaper gave me great upper body tone. The ceramic tile was artistic and I even had Jimmy helping the last time I remodeled. Zachary was the best helper ever. He was a great painter I remember. I love family projects. But here’s the thing, I really don’t want to EVER install a toilet again. Nor do I want to ceramic tile anything ever. I might paint (and I have in Florida) but if someone else can do it I’m kinda over it. I think I’m allowed, at this stage of my life, to be over things. I’ve had those experiences so now let’s move on.
So really, do I really have to go in the attic to look for leaks? Do I have to get over my fear of mice, bats, bugs and ghosts to look for water going into my mother’s bedroom? Do I once again have to allay my fears for my blind mother who has to keep a bucket to catch water that NOONE can seem to figure out where it’s coming from? Seriously? Why can’t my only job be the one taking her to the stores and making lunches for friends? Why must we always be tested in life? I guess the true answer is because I can, I have eyes, I can still climb a ladder and well my mom is blind, so it’s probably one of those things I “have” to get over. Doesn’t mean I won’t cry.
There is rain expected on Saturday. (heavy sigh)