Houses And Arms
Well, I made the plunge.
I put in an offer on a house, and it was accepted. We signed the sale agreement today, and close in four weeks.
It's open on the inside with high ceilings, which I really like. Very welcoming and conducive to having get-togethers, or home studies, or whatever the future holds.
Paul Reiser, in his book "Couplehood", talked about the sort of thing that made me like this house:
"And you always walk through the place imagining a life that has nothing to do with reality. Planning things you'll never do: parties and soirées with tantalizing guests and performers from other lands. 'This is great. We can have a dance floor here, a cocktail area there, the orchestra can set up near the receiver line...'
And then you move in and spend the rest of your life eating corn chips out of a bowl in front of the TV.
'What happened to the dancing and the waltzing and jugglers and cocktail pavilion?'
'I thought we were someone else. My mistake.'
Because in real life, you're always in one of three places: the kitchen, the bathroom, or the bedroom. There are only three things to do in life, and that's where we do them."
I'm thinking it might be the same for me. After all, I can't think of more than two or three people who might help me move, much less a crowd who would come over for a party. I don't do cocktails, and a receiving line of one is just a receiver, after all.
Fortunately, I do at least four things in life, so the extra bedroom which I'll turn into my home studio will get used as well.
Speaking of moving, some of you know that my left arm hasn't exactly worked since the beginning of January. I've had limited movement and no strength in it for seven months. (As in, "Help, I can't push a door open, lift the milk jug, or pour the laundry detergent." I couldn't even lift the sheet to make the bed.) Not exactly a great condition to be in when trying to move from one residence to another.
Honestly, it's been pretty scary. It happened when I got deathly ill at the end of December, and was sick for 2 or 3 weeks. Every night, severe shoulder muscle cramps awakened me a dozen times a night, with pain so bad I would often be in tears. And when it was all over, I couldn't lift a five pound dumbell out in front of me.
In hopes of fending off potential rotator cuff surgery, I decided to see a chiropractor. After all, maybe it was just out of joint or whatever, right? As it turns out, it was all in my neck. Last week, I got the ol' scrag crunched, twisted, snapped, and manipulated in ways which caused sounds that should only be heard when biting down on hard candy. Fortunately, I'm pleased to report that by that evening, I'd regained more than 50% of my arm's ability! I continue to improve daily and expect to be back at a hundred percent soon.
Just in time to move boxes and furniture, eh?