LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Focus on the here and now — especially when it comes to your home and possessions! You may need to take inventory for moving or insurance purposes or just reassess everything and chuck what’s not needed.
Dinner with Dad last night. Mom had a Who Is Your Past-Life Mentor? workshop she’d signed up for with friends so it was nice to have time with just Dad. He’s quiet in the best of times, but he’s been completely withdrawn lately. When I tell Mom I’m worried, she brushes it off: “That’s just your father. I’ve had better conversations with the toaster.”
As usual, he was in the garage when I stopped by. Once a year, without Mom’s prodding, I’ll hear him say, “Maybe I could have a go at sorting through some of this.” It never happens. I don’t think he knows where to start. This time when he said it, I offered to help. Gabriel’s off seeing family in Victoria over the long weekend so I’ve got time. To my astonishment, he accepted the assistance. We immediately looked over his broken tool collection and, with some coaxing, he agreed to let some of them go. Broken edger, busted hedge trimmer, snow shovel snapped in two. I swear he got teary and turned away as we created a graveyard pile. What memories go with a wrecked pair of pruners? No way I’d ever get that out of him.
On the way to Milestones, he agreed to go with me to Home Depot on Saturday to pick out matching storage tubs, pegboard, hooks and some shelving. I have little hope that we’ll reduce much of the piles of junk, but at least everything can be tossed in neatly stacked bins. Maybe Mom will nag a little less.
At dinner, I asked him about work. “They still trying to push you out?”
“Yep.” His face reddened. He wouldn’t elaborate.
When I got home, I sat on the sofa, TV off, just hugging Tupper and thinking about Dad. He was in pain. He’d put all his years into that company and now they were trying to push him out. This quiet, conscientious man was defenseless. The battle wasn’t over, but I knew—and, worse, he knew—who would win.
I couldn’t picture Dad in retirement. What the hell would he do with himself? I knew he was asking the same question.
IT TAKES THE PROSPECT OF MOVING TO MAKE ME HAVE A 2ND LOOK @ THE WORN OUT IKEA DÉCOR. WHY DID I BUY THAT DRAB ARMOIRE? CHEAP PRICE = CHEAP LOOK. NOT FOR EVERYONE, I GUESS. THERE ARE PEOPLE W/AN EYE WHO CAN ALTER A PIECE W/NEW KNOBS OR WHATEVER. I’M NOT ONE OF THEM. THE ARMOIRE, THE BOOKSHELVES, THE OFFICE CHAIR, THE COFFEE TABLE,…IT’S ALL CRAP. DO I HIRE A MOVER TO TRANSPORT CRAP TO A NEW LOCATION? IF I START OVER, WILL I SUDDENLY BE GIFTED W/A NEW EYE OR, MORE LIKELY, WILL I JUST BE REPLACING CRAP W/CRAP? I’LL BE SPENDING A ½ MIL ON A NEW SPACE & FILLING IT W/WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TEMP FURNITURE THAT SOMEHOW BECAME MY STYLE: SHABBY SHIT.
IT’S SAD TO LOOK @ 15 YRS OF AMASSING FURNITURE, ONLY TO REALIZE I’M ONLY A ½ STEP AHEAD OF COLLEGE WHEN I HAD A $15 GARAGE SALE SOFA, A THRIFT SHOP BEAN BAG & A CARD TABLE.
OF COURSE, THE SUDDEN FIXATION W/FURNITURE IS A DIVERSION. DAD’S COMING IN FOR THE EASTER WEEKEND. HE’S STAYING W/ME INSTEAD OF SARA. QUIETER. EVEN MORE SO WHEN HE’S HERE. WE’LL TALK ABOUT THE CANUCKS. THEN WHAT? HE WAS NEVER A TALKER. NEVER HAD TO BE. SINCE MOM DIED THO, THE SILENCE IS PAINFUL.