There are some minor problems with living with the parents:
- Dad doesn’t do my and Little Boy’s laundry quite as quickly as I would like.
OK, I confess. That’s the only one.
Archive for September, 2005
I’m not a landlord. DH is, though. The AC needed freon, and C. had it fixed herself. Also, she couldn’t stop thanking DH about the use of the house.
She’s getting FEMA money for rent, that she’s sending us.
I’m quite the negative-thinking little bitch, aren’t I?
I’m out of the loop now, though, and that’s a very, very good thing.
Oh dear. (A harsher word is actually what I’m thinking.) I’m a landlord.
My house is a very fine house. But it’s not new, and it does have its quirks. I am 900 miles away. I can’t fix things. My DH is also 900 miles away (to the west, vs. the northeast). He can fix things, but not from 900 miles away.
I had not expected that the person living in my house would start out complaining about it. Good naturedly, of course. We left off the AC, and it got damn hot in there. But truely, I don’t want to listen to her complain about how hot my house is.
My DH and I are going to ponder how we will deal with these sorts of issues in our sleep tonight. Hopefully, we will have a brainstorm. I think it would be best, though, for me not to handle problems. I’ll be way too tempted to just say, “Get the hell out of my house.”
Little boy and I will be living with my parents for the next two months - at least, that’s the plan. Today was my first day back on a Football Saturday.
Buckeye Football is my family’s religion. Some members are less devout than others - the women enjoy the sociality, but don’t necessarily engage as much in the actual worship services. Also, you are permitted to opt out of Football Saturday if you have to work, or live out of town. But if you’re a member of our family, in Columbus, Ohio, and the Buckeyes are playing, you probably come over to watch the game.
My parents have eleven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Some of the grandkids are older, or out of town, so they don’t come. Today, there were nine children under the age of thirteen (because of guests) and seven adults. Four doors had to be carefully watched at all times, to prevent the baby (just 16 months old) from falling someplace dangerous. Many children ran up and down the stairs to the basement, and then anxious adults ran over to check the basement door. Then there was the matter of feeding all those people (burgers on the grill, baked potato casserole with cheese, and a lovely berry trifle).
The Buckeyes are never up to snuff, even in a decisive victory like today. They should have more aggressive offense, fewer turnovers, and a defense that never tires.
It was a busy, noisy day. It was also a lot of fun, which is a decided advantage among religious services. Next week is a bye week, so the services will not be held. I’m more than a little relieved.
We did some picking up and vacuuming yesterday. We’re not going to need new carpet - the carpet is just fine. Kind of annoying, because we really need new carpet. Oh, well, at least we can get it cleaned.
The mildew smell was coming from the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. The door was shut, the floor was wet, and there were lots of clothes and shoes on the floor. Uh-oh. We lost about eight pairs of shoes and a bunch of clothes, most of which were on the floor or in a box on the floor because they don’t fit. My wedding dress was kind of mildewed, but it came out nice and white again after being washed with some bleach.
When we’re inside our house, everything is just fine. Outside, though, the city is still kind of surreal. You can’t see the front of our house from the street because the tree limbs are piled so high. Two-foot diameter logs from the trunks of blown-over and broken pine trees are everywhere. A very good large one-topping pizza is only $6.
We’re packing up the stuff in the bedroom and bathroom closets and cupboards to make room for a family that is moving in to our house for a couple of months. C. is a single mom who has adopted three special-needs children. Her house has about a foot and a half of mud in it right now, and she’s been staying with a cousin. She says we are the answer to a prayer. Nobody has called me that for a long time.
I think we’ll be able to leave Tuesday morning; DH for Lubbock, and me for Columbus.
DH is going to Lubbock. I’m going to stay in Columbus. He has a short-term post-doc position at Texas Tech, and I have a job here with a former employer. Major, major props to Horn Professor Robert J. Baker of TTU and Stuart Crane of Definitive Homecare Solutions for putting two out-of-work evacuees to work, earning money and being useful. In my case, I’ll even be learning a useful new skill - Crystal Reports.
We are heading to Slidell tomorrow. We’re going to do what we can to clean up our house and maybe prepare it for somebody to live there while we’re gone. I will drive back to Columbus on Monday and Tuesday. DH will head to West Texas, then on to New Mexico and Arizona to (get this) collect lizards.
Living apart is going to suck mightily, but we’ve done it before, and it’s for the long-term good.
We were at the Red Cross earlier today (hat tip to Randy) and my mother commented to Little Boy, “Gee, I wonder where your mom and dad are. They should be back by now.”
Little boy replied, “They went to Louisiana.” I guess he’ll be OK while we’re gone.
I’ve been very fortunate through this difficult time. We evacuated to a nice hotel in Houston. I returned home briefly to find the house in very good shape. I stayed with my in-laws, and with my cousin, and now with my parents. Everyone has been thoughtful and kind and supportive.
An acquaintance of my daughter’s, upon hearing about our sojourn of the last two weeks, cracked “well, it sounds like they’ve had a nice little vacation.”
FEMA money showed up in my checking account three days after I filed a claim. My insurance company has given us a sizable advance against expenses for the next two weeks. Friends and family I’ve never met, or haven’t seen in years, have sent donations. The love and support and kindness I’ve been welcomed with have been overwhelming.
I feel guilty. With all the devastation around us, we came through relatively unscathed. I feel selfish for planning to keep the money. I ought to give it to the 92 year-old woman in the Astrodome who doesn’t know how to use a debit card. I ought to give it to the Red Cross to provide water and food for people who have neither. But I’m not going to give the money to those with needs so much greater than mine - because we really do need the money.
This is survivor’s guilt. I feel like such a heel.
I am visiting my cousin Alex in Fort Mill, SC, on the southern outskirts of Charlotte. Alex has a beautiful house and fixed us a lovely dinner. She has five year-old twins for Little Boy to play with, and a three year-old daughter to amuse us all tomorrow while the twins are in school. The playroom is the size of my den plus some, and I lust after her TV. And she has high-speed internet access.
DH and I are now thinking ahead a whole few days, to the things we will want to do next week. We need to hit the ground running with FEMA, Red Cross, job search, alternative living arrangements, etc.
Like Randy’s wife, I have found the exile disconcerting. I woke up yesterday morning and was very confused. I didn’t recognize my surroundings at all. Then I realized I was not in my bed. I really, really miss my bed.
I thought Slidell was a black hole for communication! This is almost as bad - I don’t have internet access at all, except for the library (30 minute limit, but longer if people aren’t waiting) and at my in-laws - and they are blocking access to the Aimoo communities. Yargh!
I went on a picnic at a lake with my in-laws ward today. There was a wonderful freshwater beach - small, but fine nonetheless. Lunch was nice, with barbeque from Sonny’s (yum!). I really, really, didn’t want to go. I’m withdrawing from human contact again. So I made myself go. I’m glad I did.
I’m numb. I’m lost. I don’t know what’s next, beyond Friday. I’ve lost control of my life, and it sucks.
I have been overwhelmed by the affection and concern of so many of you, many of whom I’ve never met. I can’t tell y’all how much it means to me.
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