I’ve spent a great deal of time alone these past few weeks. September is “Proposal Season” for the beltway bandit. This means very long hours at the office for Dave and longer hours at home for me. Sometimes I only see him at breakfast and then for a few minutes before bed.
Being on my own isn’t unbearable. In fact, for short periods of time, I really enjoy it. I don’t run around the house in my underwear playing air guitar and singing Bob Seager like Tom Cruise, but I will admit to going bra-less and eating popcorn for dinner. My time is my own, no one is the boss of me (as if anyone really ever is) and I can do what I want.
Usually, in the beginning of my solitary confinement, I become a dynamo. Last week I painted the master bath – not a job for sissies with all it’s nooks and crannies – and switched out the kitchen faucet. The painting was an exercise in “oh, yeah…”. I somehow forgot my hundreds of hours past painting experience and, after taping the room off, seemed to make uncountable trips up and down stairs, from bath to garage, assembling all the stuff required to paint a room. The paint was especially drippy. I stepped in and tracked drips around the room. At times I felt that all that was missing was Ethel to complete my “Lucy” moment. I did experience a moment of genius that I will pass along. To make painting around a toilet easy, pull a plastic lawn and leaf bag over the top and cover the whole thing. Not only do you protect your porcelain, but you have a nice big bag to toss all the newspaper and tape in when you’re ready to clean up! Take that Heloise!
Installing the faucet was my triumph. On the heals of my painting mess, I carefully reviewed the directions, gathered my tools and downed my second cup of coffee before tackling the job. As I happens, my biggest challenge was removing the old faucet – it didn’t come with directions for that. It took me a really long time to figure out how to unhook the sprayer arm. I looked all over the thing for a threaded end to unscrew. Finally, after reviewing my installation instructions, I saw that the new one snapped into place. It was worth a shot. Unsnapping the hose was not so easy and resulted in a minor injury as my elbow flew backwards and smacked the cupboard door. So it goes, nothing worth having comes easy.
The installation of the new faucet went well. The hardest part was the contorting required to get myself under the sink and lying on my back. You’d think that after all these years my body would know what to do when I want to move in a certain way. Sadly, it seems as though more conscious effort is necessary to twist myself in and out of a bottom cupboard. Imagine that!
Once I was finished, and was satisfied there were no leaks, I called my Dad to let him know what his little girl had just done. I enjoy sharing my repair stories with him. I get the same satisfaction telling him “I did it all by myself” as I did when I was little and I’m pretty sure he gets the same feeling of pride when he hears me say it.
The truth is that I really didn’t install that faucet all by myself. If I hadn’t spent my childhood watching my Dad and fetching the odd tool when he asked for it, I wouldn’t have been able to tackle even the smallest of plumbing job, let alone installing a faucet. Heck, I wouldn’t even know the names of the tools!
So, I suppose that even in my most alone moments, I am never truly alone. I am always surrounded by those who have been a part of my life. Mom is with me when I open the refrigerator and pull together a meal and Dad is with me when I put on my tool belt. This morning, as I sit on my deck, watching the hummingbirds at my feeder, my Grandma Gray is with me (although she wouldn’t so much like to see my cat cuddling next to St. Francis).
Today my solitary confinement ends. Andy is arriving for a week-long visit following by Amy, Maggie and Jan this weekend. The house will be full. More memories will be made. I hope Dave makes it home to share it.