Go Time

It's "go time," as they say.  I have things in pretty good order.  For two days, a crew of men with tools and tractors and machines has been working over my driveways and landscaping.  When I came home last night, I was knocked out.  It is all beautiful.  I sat outside and simply enjoyed it.  Everything changed with this upgrade.  Everything became more pleasant, more meaningful.  It has been a long time since my property was in this kind of shape.  I remember now the pleasure that it brings.  And I am resolute, of course, never to let it fall to pieces again. But we all know that depends on one thing: whether or not I fall to pieces again.  I promise you, though, this helps.  There is more to be done, and it will be done when I return from my trip to California.  First you create the environment, then the environment creates you.  I forget who said it, but I believe it.  It is true.  And if my environment has been making me. . . well. . . I've been a mess.  So the house will get a pressure washing and I will make some potted gardens around the verandas and decks, and I will think about how to redecorate while I look around in San Francisco.

And truly, I do feel better.  I know I do because the cable guys came to the house last night to make my television work again.  And it didn't.  It did and it didn't.  The lightning fried all the HDMI plugs.  They just don't work now, so they hooked it up using component cabling.  The quality isn't as good.  I will have to get a new television and a new Apple TV box.  It will cost me much money on top of the work I've had done around the house and the hideously expensive trip to San Francisco.  And still, I feel O.K.  I'm not depressed by the news at all.  If I need to, I will watch component television for as long as it takes to pay for something else.

Fixing things up has been better than Xanax.

Now it is time to pack for tomorrow's flight.  I won't want to do it tonight after work.  I will feel better all day if my little bag is ready to go.

There is really only one source of stress now.  The cat.  She knows I'm leaving, I guess, because I started pulling out the clothes I will take and putting them into piles.  She meowed all morning and will not leave me alone now.  She looks forlorn.  Twelve days without me.  I have someone to feed her, but she said she may not be here the entire time.  May not?!?  What?!?  You can't take care of a cat for six of the twelve days.  It worries me.  As does the cleaning of the litter box.  And the rest.  Oh. . . I don't even want a cat.  She dirties the couch and makes me sneeze.

Whatever.

As I say, it is go time.  And so I shall.