Hello again, my lovelies.
I have been incommunicado for more than a week now. I am sorry about that.
We... ended up not going to the cottage. The reasons for that are complicated, actually. We didn't go to the Valley, either. We just stayed in town, laying low, taking things easy.
First of all, I have been keeping something from you for months and months now. I had my reasons for doing so. I think they were good reasons, but upon re-evaluation, it just doesn't make sense any longer. This thing has taken an enormous amount of my time, and Patricia's time, over the last six months, and contributed mightily to many of the problems I have had getting blog posts out on a regular basis.
Here it goes.
The house I have in the Valley is on the market.
Some of you have known about this since the beginning. If you work with me, you would have likely heard me grousing or seen my exhaustion.
Patricia and I have spent a lot of time down there cleaning out the place. Many, many trips to Value Village, dropping off stuff. So many salt and pepper shakers. Packing things up. Cleaning out the attic took the better part of an entire weekend. My father had put stuff up there over the decades that was promptly forgotten about. Goodness gracious. Old exercise books from high school. University stuff. We filled 14 or 15 large plastic bags full of that stuff, after I had climbed up in the attic and thrown stuff down into the hallway. So much stuff. 99.9% of it went out with our recycling.
A couple of years ago, I went up there and found some old mystery magazines and back issues of SF magazines, issues I had long ago misplaced, and which either I or my father had put up there more than 30 years ago. After rescuing that stuff, I had hoped that there might still be some treasures up there. Not so much.
That is but one example.
We have found so much stuff there over the months and got rid of it. My father was a packrat of the highest order. We found hundreds of cancelled cheques he wrote back in the 1970's. He would pay Mom a sum every week with which she would buy groceries. We have found so many of those cheques. Those will be shredded.
There have been a couple of offers on the house. One of them, to my ever lasting regret, was rejected because we didn't have full information. The disappointment was nearly palpable. Another offer fell through over when the person could not secure bank funding. Plenty of people have traipsed through the place.
The decision to sell the property was not made lightly. I thought about it for years. I felt I was betraying my parents by selling the place. They wanted me to retire down there, even though my life has been in the city for the past three decades. But the cost, on my finances, on my psyche, on my soul, on nearly every aspect of my being, had become such that keeping the place was an untenable situation. Driving up there. Taking care of the place. Driving back. Rinse. Repeat. For years.
I resisted for as long as I could before friends and a couple extended family members managed to convince me that my parents would not want me to go through all this sturm und drang, that they would understand if I just let it go, that it was time for someone else to live there and put their stamp on the place. Yet feelings of doubt lingered, like
I recently hired a man to replace the back steps, as the old ones had become unsafe. I haven't seen the work yet. I am sure the man did a very good job, as he has been doing extremely well with the other handyman jobs I have had him do in the last several months. He has been a godsend. I always address him by his last name because he is a good man who deserves respect, and therefore I will address him with respect.
There are other aspects of this topic that I probably should not discuss here, but you can guess what they might be.
In other news...
We did have a bit of fun during our vacation. We went out to a couple of meals, including a place called Delish, in Upper Tantallon. It is a British-focused eatery that also sells groceries from the U.K. We really like the place.
Also had a good meal at the Finer Diner last week. And before hitting Nocturne last Saturday, we had a meal at our favourite Halifax sushi place. As we left, the owner looked at me and said, "I am a boy". Turns out I had given him one of my Bevboy's Blog business card and had kept it for the past year or so. Must be a blog reader. Hello, sir.
The return to work on Monday was difficult. I was exhausted Monday night and slept the night away. Felt a bit better Tuesday night and made a stir fry for dinner. Wednesday morning, the dull headache I had had for a few days was still there. I found a stash of my headache pills and took one around 6:30. 45 minutes or so later, it was gone, and I felt fine. I love those pills. Have saved me from taking dozens of sick days over the years.
So, that is what I have been up to, in broad strokes. I feel better for telling you about it.
I am going to turn in for the evening. I have to get up in less than six hours. Where do the evenings go?
Talk to you tomorrow.