I’ve been thinking a lot lately about finish lines, especially in how we view big projects and how we think they’ll advance. We look forward, we long, for the day when everything is done. It seems as if it will never happen. And then, gradually, the pieces start falling into place. It’s not one big ta-da moment like a horse crossing the finish line but a succession. There are bumps and reversals and then bursts of progress. This past Sunday, for instance, was a burst. The in-laws were off on a square-dancing trip until Sunday afternoon, and Jan’s daughter and her husband wanted to come over that evening.
First let me say that my purpose in chronicling the sometimes-rocky path we’re traversing in our efforts to renovate the downstairs isn’t necessarily to be entertaining, as I’m well aware that perhaps not everyone is as fascinated as we are with this whole process. Most of this saga falls into the “lessons learned” category, although, as our favorite author on home remodeling/renovation, David Owen, says, in any home improvement project you learn what you need to know as you go along, so that by the time you’re finished you know what you’re doing—but by then it’s too late. The project is done. If you’re a professional, then of course every mistake you make helps you not to make that same one on the next job. But for those of us who are simply trying to do a one-time item, it can get a little discouraging to realize that we’ll probably never use our hard-won knowledge again.
I said last week that every Monday was going to be a Progress Post. Well, today, Wednesday, is the first post I’ve written this week. Monday our peerless contractor and his son worked most of the day on installing our very small number of cabinet units, and I kept thinking that I should run and take a picture, but I wasn’t sure where my camera was. They were actually supposed to be on a much bigger job but they made time for us. I wanted a before and after set of pictures for today, from all the boxes on the kitchen floor to everything being put away, but all I have is this one shot that was taken partway through the process. (Pretty bad shot!)
I wrote yesterday about passing the milestone of my last BSF class for the year and that I now need to be sure I have a new goal to fill the time left empty by the completion of that stretch. A memory from grad school came to mind as I re-read the post. A fellow speech grad student had her masters speech recital, straining every nerve, as one does, to get the performance ready and then, well, perform it. She did a good job (although for the life of me I can’t remember what her material was) and then she had a real struggle with depression once it was over.
Hope you recognize the quotation in the title as being from Gone With the Wind. Mammy says it when Scarlet has her baby, although I can’t remember if it was baby #1 (Wade) or #2 (Bonnie). Bonnie’s the one who ends up being killed in a horse-riding accident. (Spoiler alert, and not that Bonnie has a thing to do with the subject of this post. Also, Hattie McDaniel, who played Mammy in the film, was looked upon by some as giving in to the racism of the novel by agreeing to play that part. And then she won the first Oscar ever by a black actor and couldn’t sit with the rest of the cast at the awards ceremony! Well, all that is a subject for another day.)
Yesterday I wrote about what was going on in our lives one year ago as we finally got a diagnosis for our son Gideon and started him on the treatment that cured his cancer. So you’d think that I’d be rejoicing at any and everything that happened this week, since nothing could be as bad as that was. Right? Right. You would think that. And yet, there I was on Tuesday, grumbling and complaining to myself about the dinner I was making for my beloved community chorale’s annual business meeting. “I wish this were over with,” I thought. I had the sensation that I often have when I’m doing something I don’t particularly want to do, feeling as if I’m being dragged along unwillingly towards the event I’m preparing for.
I’ve been writing quite a bit recently about two subjects: tools and planning. As I write this I’m facing two frantic days to prepare for tomorrow night’s concert and reception. Yesterday I got all of my grocery shopping done, a task that I would normally have put off until today. So today can be solely dedicated to food prep that can be done ahead, housework, and going over my music. We have our second concert-week rehearsal this evening, which will be fraught with the usual angst over our entrances and exits. (Why we can’t just have a standard procedure that we always follow is beyond me, but I guess it keeps us from getting complacent.)