Plus. Minus. Plus. Minus. Plus. Minus.
All day long, “What If’s?”, “Should I’s?”, “Why Not’s?” and “Am I OUt of My Mind?” cloud my thinking. Really? All I want to do is finish painting my hallway. Thoughts of moving into a new classroom after being retired for five years haunt me. Yesterday, everything became real.
My morning started like any other, although I’d overslept for a job I don’t yet have on quiet Monday morning. To stay on track, each evening, I write down my plan for the next day. Assigning times and activities, I have a written To-Do List all prepared in case it’s a day I need to be on auto-pilot. As a widow, those days pop up and I need a pre-designed plan to guide me through. These days, those kind of days don’t happen too often anymore.
6:30 AM. Water the plants outside.
Simple, until it became complicated.
Winterpast sits in the middle of lush gardens. In the desert, this is selfish and extravagant. I have my own personal oasis. Now, I didn’t plant it. I maintain it. In fact, under my watch, several trees have died or been removed. I’ve limited the water in some areas, shrinking my green footprint. My yard remains California green. This takes a lot of water in the summer.
I own two complicated sprinkler systems that I needed to learn. Nine stations feeding water to old tubing and even older emitters. The back station quit last year. Installing a new box, it still didn’t work. I believe I have failing solenoids. What a curse! Sounds like a dreaded disease.
Yesterday, when I turned on the back up system, (now leaking in all the wrong places), water didn’t magically spring to life where it should. Water in — No water out = Big leak underground.
There are many things I can do well. I’m finding I don’t mind a ladder as long as I’m not higher than the fourth rung. I don’t mind trouble shooting minor car problems. I can hang doors with the best of them.
But, I need to draw the line at digging. I can no longer be the human mole and dig. Oliver could help me with this one if only there were a stash of dog bones involved, but the heat gets to him, as well.
Calling Mr. B, Gardener Extraordinaire, I always feel I’ve failed. Really? Why can’t I fell the tree? Why can’t I dig holes in the cement we call desert dirt? Why can’t I fix the sprinkler system?
Why?
Because I am old, frail, and able to pay Mr. B to do it for me. End of story on that.
Mr. B will be arriving tonight and we’ll start the process of finding out what the heck is happening to the water. Whatever it takes, whatever the cost. When Mr. B is done, I’ll have an automated system in the back yard that waters daily, right on schedule like me. My solenoids will not longer be failing. If I need to be up and functioning, my watering system will be.
So, after an extremely frustrating morning in which the haunting of the future took a backseat to the rantings of the present, my phone rang. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen begging me to pick up.
“Hi, this is Janice. I’m calling from the little elementary school one mile away from you. The cute one that you think of often. The one you applied for. The one in which we’ll give you the keys to Room 10. The one where you’ll lovingly teach your kiddos from August until May. That one. When can we meet?”
Well, the conversation wasn’t exactly like that (except in my mind).
Mrs. Principal would like to meet me next week on a special morning. Now things are very real. “Go Big or Go Home” VST used to say. We always went big and I have no intentions of stopping now. Being Intelligent, Resourceful, Intuitive, Seasoned, 1 part Mary Poppins, and 2 parts Amazing Teacher, the eyes in the back of my head will slay them. The job is mine to accept or refuse.
I suspect the hauntings of possibilities will be intense today. That’s okay, because the more I think, the faster I paint.
Stay tuned. The story is starting to getting interesting around here.
More tomorrow.