.Bard

Good morning, world.

It's late, so late. And, of late, as with most of my life, this is my time. These last couple of weeks, however, it's for different reasons than usual. I've actually been applying myself at home, which I've never really been one for. I took 4 days of my 20 annual leave days to get some work done at home, after finding out that Kerri was in serious stress mode about whether Emily -- who gets back from London in.. far too few hours now -- would have a place to sleep, due to the current disarray of our house. I was shocked into action by the emotional stress that Kerri was under, and it put me on notice: I just don't do enough around the house. I'm a very lazy person in most endeavors; as anyone who knows me will tell you. I work hard at work when there's something serious on, otherwise I'm usually found in my own pursuits (such as.. getting my new wordpress site tweaked out just how I want it... or writing some script in an arcane language/fashion for my own gratification). Basically, I'm just selfish. I apply effort when I absolutely have to, or when I'm getting some immediate benefit from it, but otherwise I'll do as little as I can.

I remember growing up what my dad was like; Forever out in the yard doing something. It was endless. He was forever washing a car, or cleaning something, or repairing something, or mowing, or weeding.. He was, in this way, if in few others, a perfect model. My mother was the same: pure middle-class effort. Always keeping the house up-to-scratch, always keeping things just so. I have made rather a hobby of ridiculing her for such efforts, and their supposed uselessness, but I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something there. I've always said that there are much better things to be doing rather than <insert domestic task here>. These "better things" usually involve some sort of perceived "self-improvement", whether it be teaching myself something useful, or just reading a book -- feeding the intellectual self. Lately, as I've begun the process of getting myself into the habit of doing things around here -- again, when it's been absolutely crucial.. baby steps, folks -- I've begun to find not only satisfaction but.. a sense of peace and well being, not to mention more energy than I knew I had. I spent 6 hours one day, barely stopping for the odd cigarette or ubiquitous Diet Coke, just working on the ceiling in our bedroom (it's plaster, old school stuff, and badly needed help before it could be painted). I found this utterly engrossing, not to mention gratifying in a way that I had never expected; I found myself deriving joy from the simple act of "doing". I was contributing; helping out; looking after something I own (the house). These things, sadly, are not the hallmarks of who I am. I'm frequently careless with material possessions -- something else I pride myself on, they just being "things". I don't know whether it's the onset of the onset of middle age, or an actual shift in values, or a simple realization that some things are worth looking after, but I think some of that good, honest, "middle class effort" I was exposed to is finally beginning to take root somewhere in my conscious life. I suddenly want to show my love for my wife and family through sheer sweat. I don't know whether this is valid, but it certainly makes me feel good. I suppose that is a form of gratification in itself. Whatever the cause, the effect is certainly rewarding: When emily comes home she'll have a newly painted and plastered room to sleep in, due to not only my efforts but Kerri's as well. Kerri is sleeping the satisfied, exhausted sleep of the happy wife, and all is well.

Perhaps gratification in and of itself is not the evil, but rather the means by which it is attained, and whether your gratification comes at the expense of someone else's happiness, or through the increase of someone else's happiness.

Heady stuff. Either that, or I'm so exhausted I'm just talking myself into thinking that I'm a deep thinker (thank you, Jack Handy).

...

In other news, Emily, our baby, is, as briefly noted above, due home in a few hours. This is momentous. She was the first of our three to try her wings -- pun.. well, fairly well intended -- in any fashion whatsoever. We have not laid eyes, arms or even a breath of a kiss on her in over a year. In that time there has been an Xmas, many birthdays, the death of her paternal grandfather, and thousands of tiny occasions that one normally overlooks. As I anticipate her arrival back into the fold, I'm overwhelmed by all these.. I can't wait to see her and just hold her. I can feel the welled up emotion -- not to mention the inevitable tears -- building even now. It's going to be incredibly intense, and so sweet for the long wait in between. I feel as though I want to inhale her, take some part of her into me and just smother it.. Make it a breathing part of me that I can never lose. I can't believe she'll so soon be here in physical form again. I'm beginning to understand the urgency with which my mother attempts to ring me every week. I must go easier on her for that.

In closing, let's take a hard look at the status of the much anticipated move to the states:

Goal 1: Fix and Sell house -- Badly behind schedule, but moving forward steadily nevertheless. Two utterly exhausting rooms down, only two to go (now that we've decided to just leave Susan's bizarre bedroom color scheme for the next poor bastard to sort out). The remaining two rooms are -- fingers crossed very tightly on this one -- by far the easier of the four rooms. They have no molded plaster ceilings, which makes a huge difference. We'll probably be inevitably less exacting in our repair of them as well, as we're just not as zealous as we once were about all this. Every layer of paint lessens our resolve to make the place "perfect" -- well, whatever little resolve of that nature we ever had to begin with. Thus, we'll probably cut a few more corners than we have been thus far, but I'm sure it will be more than satisfactory. (Incidentally I was always sure we were setting our sights a little high, but I'm learning that it's nearly impossible to see your own house with any reasonable perspective. Who knows how keen an eye a prospective buyer will use when viewing? After all, we never noticed most of these transgressions until we began the repairs).

Goal 1a: Pack shit up for moving. Meh.

Goal 2: Buy new house - Has major dependencies on goal 1. We're hoping this part will be pretty straightforward, as we'll most likely be buying the new place with cold, hard cash from the sale of the old place -- AKA, our house. It remains to be seen if we're underestimating that process.

Goal 2a: Move shit into new house and get kids settled. MEH.

Goal 3: Fuck off and head for the States. See Goal 2: re: dependencies.

There's a massive status update, along with a nice, incoherent, late-night rant, soon to be followed by my trademark abrupt ending.

G'night all.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 25th, 2007 at 3:12 am and is filed under Absolution, Rants. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.