It’s said that patience is a virtue. It’s never been one of my particular favorites, but sometimes it pays off. I got home from work this afternoon to find that one of my neighbors has finally started putting up a privacy fence… meaning that I can put in the two end sections (saving beaucoup dollars over having to install the whole thing myself) and be relieved of the annoyance that is the back yard of my neighbor to the west. My new favorite neighbor’s contractor is supposed to drop off an estimate for me tomorrow. Next time I see her walking the dog in the morning, I’m gonna kiss that woman… Tongue, no tongue, totally her choice.
Tag Archives: home
Dear Neighbor (or Another reason why I hate people)…
Dear Neighbor,
They pick up the trash in our subdivision on Wednesday. It’s customary for folks to put their trash out on Tuesday evening and then take their newly emptied trashcan off the curb when they get home Wednesday afternoon. Is it really so hard for you to get with the program? Why is your lovely green can still sitting on the curb on Saturday morning? It’s right there by your mailbox and I’ve seen you picking up your mail in the afternoons when you get home. Is it too hard for you to extend your other hand and drag your can back to the garage like every other damned person in the universe?
And another thing… Why the hell are you watering your lawn? I mean, really, why bother? You clearly hate cutting your grass because you do it so rarely… Not to mention that there are three foot tall weeds growing around every obstruction in your yard… including you house. If you’re not going to do the required maintenance, why do something that actually encourages the stuff to grow in the first place? And really, if you’re too lazy to break out the weedeater once a week, at least invest $5.00 in a bottle of Round-up and kill that shit.
Yours very sincerely,
Jeff
Getting there…
I’m please to report that everything here seems to be coming together. Most of the boxes are unpacked now and rooms are starting to take on something approaching the way I’d like them to look. Of course there are still the details to handle; the pictures to hang, the boxes of trinkets to place, figuring out how the hell to cover the ridiculously oversized window in the dining room.
What I’ve noticed is that trips to Home Depot take on a new significance now. Around every corner is something to drool over. While I have always delighted in the utilitarian excess of places like Home Depot, I never got a special tingle going there when I was living in the apartment.
I’m going to try uploading some new pictures in the near future so I can prove that I’m actually making progress down here. I don’t think Memphis will ever be “home,” but it definitely feels better now that there’s more here than me and an air mattress.
Oh yeah…
I’m pleased to report I am alive and well in Western Maryland, but the thought that occurs to me is that outside of a few old friends and family members I don’t actually know anyone up here any more. I’m not sure why that actually surprises me, though. It’s a “discovery” I make pretty consistently every time I am here for a weekend. Not so much a complaint, just an observation.
Going to the well…
Have a six-week road stand starting a week from Monday with a 900 mile drive to Memphis. You might be expecting a rant, but the reality is the only thing I am mildly agitated by is paying $1000 a month rent for an apartment I am going to be using as a glorified storage shed/mailbox while I am gone.
Like before almost all of my long trips, I feel a compulsion to go home this weekend. It’s an almost visceral need to stand, again, on the good earth of my childhood; to go once more to the wellspring to drink deeply and gather strength for the next push, the next campaign in my most recent long slog. I’ll go home and smell the first crisp air of fall and watch the mist burn out of the valley in the early morning. I’ll sleep, peaceful in the quiet home of my family a few more nights before turning out to late nights in tacky hotel rooms. For a few days more, I’ll be home.
I’ve crossed continents, but ultimately, every place I have ended up can fit into the category of “just the place I live.” I’ve had my share of rolled eyes and sarcastic comments about Western Maryland and I can’t imagine living there again, but somehow, I can’t imagine it ever not being home.
JEFFREYTHARP.COM 