Jon and I agreed to meet at my parent's old house after work to collect the desk and shelving units I mentioned previously. It didn't occur to me that Jon had our only copy of the key until I was the first to arrive and found I was locked out. In lew of another option I sat on the front steps and decided it was time to reflect on my life in the house. I thought about all of the conversations I'd had, some meaningful, while others were not so much, in that very spot leaning against the white pillar with my legs pulled up to my chest. I had read dozens books and written hundreds of poems right there as I watched the sunset behind the dated church. It saddened me a little to think this would be the last time I watched the sun go down from this particular seat, but then I remembered I wasn't a child anymore, and it had been years since I'd written a poem or watched the sunset from there anyway. That's when I realized that I am over this.
I've been feeling a jumble of emotions lately, trying to decide exactly how I should feel about never again entering the house I called home for nineteen years of my life. One minute I would feel perfectly fine with it, even happy about it, but the next I felt guilty for being so unemotional. Sort of like, shouldn't this bother me? Shouldn't this be hitting me harder than it is? I was feeling so guilty about not having a problem with the changes that I was trying to create a problem, but then I remembered that this hadn't been my home for a long time. I'll cry when I have to leave my own house, but not my parents. They wanted the change, that's why they moved, and it shouldn't bother me in the least. Perhaps that's why it didn't. It shouldn't have taken me this long to come to this conclusion, but what can I say? I think too much, and in thinking too much I create too many mountains out of mole hills.
So it's been four days since I watched my last sunset behind the old church and I've been busy trying to turn trash into treasure. I decided to start with the shelves and found I was becoming easily discouraged. I thought it would be simple to give them a very thorough cleaning and adjust a few of the shelves, but I didn't realize there were so many nuts and bolts. It's been a matter of removing every shelf, each being held on by 8 nuts and 8 bolts, cleaning every inch, and then repositioning them at the height I wanted, replacing all 16 pieces of hardware per shelf. I found the Mother of All Spiders on the bottom of one. Thank God she was dead, but I was experiencing imaginary itching for the remainder of the night.
I've finally finished with the shelves, but I never thought it would take me four days, which has me a little concerned about this desk that is the size of a large toddler bed. Tomorrow I have to stop at Home Depot on my way home from work and talk to someone about the best plan of attack. I know I have to remove the old finish, sand it down, stain it, and seal it, but I've never done this before and I'm feeling in over my head before I've even begun.
At least the shelves are finished, and after seeing how great they've turned out I'm positive this desk will be amazing. I'm just not sure I'll have it done within the year.