These are not chickens. I counted them though right here.
In reality, not all of my projects hatched. Stripping the doors did not enable them to close. So my lovely (sometimes I wonder if I'm kidding myself) old condo still has a bathroom door that doesn't shut, and my "owner's closet" has a note proclaiming it as such but no lock. But I just finished reading Caribou Island by David Vann. You can read a review of it here. Given the outcome of the construction of a cabin (not to mention the marriage) in this book--one of the darker novels I've read, I still feel okay about my 12 days of fix-its.
One of the things I've learned about myself in the past four years since the failure of my marriage is that I don't give up easily. It's a good thing and a bad thing. Was it a good thing to stay married to someone who so obviously did not want to be with me? No, but I kept telling myself that I could fix it. That it would work out on its own. The empty nest would revive us...
My last night in St. Paul I was tired and frustrated as I put away my tools and painting supplies, getting ready to return to California. Maybe when the summer rains and humidity come to an end, I thought. When there's a good hard freeze, the wooden doors will contract and....and then I caught myself.
No.
I will need a carpenter to plane them. But it's okay. My painting jobs turned out pretty good. I chose an excellent contractor for the closets. Some things went well.
So before the snow flies, I'll go back. I'll take my window air conditioners out, maybe paint my living room.
I have every confidence that I will choose the perfect shade of green.
