After All It's Just a Fence

Note: This is out of sequence time-wise and happened earlier in our move but is still very much on my mind and still applies.

I have to face the fact that I have been a big whiner. It’s not an attractive trait and I am as self-conscious of it right now as I would be of a volcano size zit on the end of my nose.

I have been trying to get a fence built at my house for a couple of weeks now. No progress. The fence had to go up because we moved the dog. Then we had to change contractors. There was quite a bit of unpleasantness surrounding the whole fence building thing. I want to mention here that after all the trouble and money Rascal still won’t stay in the yard. We are going to see if beer works for her.

I have been trying to get flooring in. No progress. I have been trying to get unpacked from moving...more of the same...no progress. Moving is like being caught in an avalanche and calling for more snow. And now I understand what people who remodel go through because nothing is simple.

Everyone is specialized. Flooring people don’t do edge molding on the floor. Reupholsters don’t do wood refinishing. Movers are the only ones who move everything including I’m told packing up the garbage or in the case of our last move my friends shoes from the bedroom floor. She had to go home barefoot.

I have no TV, no land line, my accounts have disappeared with the closing of our internet account by our provider on their end. I can’t even get my blog back under my own name. I have been wearing the same limited wardrobe out of my suitcase for the last two weeks. My life is chaos. And there I go again more whining. And I am painfully aware of doing it.

I try to be evolved as a human being, honestly I do. It’s just that it is such a struggle sometimes. I even went to a class in Buddhism and I fell asleep meditating and it was only the snoring of a fellow meditator that kept me from falling off my chair completely.

My “Life is beautiful, I love you” side struggles with my “F-you, go to hell” side. The latter mostly manifests itself while driving. I bet we have the highest rate of road rage in the country.

I like feeling loving and warm and fuzzy and huggy toward everyone. But life frustrates me sooooo much. I can’t even type sooooo without a spell check reminder pointing out my deliberate spelling error—just another frustration.

I tell myself “It’s just a fence not yet built.” “It’s just carpet the dog chewed up and mini-blinds she bent.” “It’s just sleep I’m losing because daughter fell out of bed in the middle of the night and hurt her arm.”

None of those things or the accumulation of them should drive me to the point of irrationally yelling at my husband that I was leaving to drive to Alaska to charge my cell phone in my car and I wasn’t coming back! And it was just because he locked the bathroom door while he was showering and my phone was charging in there and I couldn’t get it. That was totally stupid. I should have said Florida because it’s too damn cold in Alaska.

But I have to stop whining really I do. The only thing that matters is the love we have for our friends and family. This was made painfully clear to me today when I sent a whiny, albeit funny, e-mail to a friend.

Her reply e-mail informed me of the sudden death of her husband in an accident.

My heart stopped for more than a moment. It was one of those instances that remind me that life is precious...even with all its frustrations and chaos and crises.

ALL that really matters is the love of family and friends and trying to find at least one joyful moment each day. It is after all just a fence...

Living in Purgatory

In this case it is the place between moved out and not completely moved in. Boxes lined up against walls give the place a spacious feeling that will disappear as soon as the other two pods of stuff arrive. I waited and waited to get the fence put up so our Lab mix Rascal could be outside as she prefers. Inside, she prefers to get into the trash can, jump on the bed leaving enough fur behind to make a new pillow, chew the carpet, drink from the toilet, and "adjust" the mini-blinds. At our previous home she actually chewed the corner of the house. She makes up for all the mischief with a perpetually sunny disposition and while I have seen her chomp down a June bug or two, she would never hurt a fly. She is eleven and leaving her behind or "rehoming" her was just out of the question. She is family. Because our escrow closed the same day at the old house and at the new, and I must say lovely for its size and amenities, mobile home we need a fence up like NOW.

Without the fence, I can't get the dog out of the house. Without the dog out, I can't get the flooring in, without the flooring, I can't get my furniture delivered. What should be so difficult about getting a fence put up consigning one to purgatory you may wonder. Well, let me tell you. First, there are the mobile home park rules, fence height 4', partial exception for the height of the fence that faces the street that points car headlights at our bedroom, so 4' and 6'. Part of 6' was already up, so let's match part of that and put some of that lovely open looking white vinyl fence that never needs painting. Good enough. Second, the handyman who came recommended to us did not have English as his first language and had some strange fence building ideas. Have you ever seen white DAP used to join the seams of fences? I hadn't. He thought also it didn't matter because we were going to paint the fence white...no we weren't. We were staying with the redwood color that was already up until we get to the vinyl fencing. The job was going horribly wrong already and I didn't want to continue. Third, part of the reason that I didn't want to continue was that the vinyl fence had to be ordered from the Midwest I was told. The slats of the local fencing are too far spaced apart and Waldo our 4 lb. Chihuahua can just stroll on through. I couldn't wait two weeks for a fence, Rascal was redecorating my house and getting ahead of the flooring guy by pulling up carpet. I found someone else to build me a fence. He wanted to build it in wood. OK, that's okay. Lastly, it looked beautiful but now the beautiful natural fence has to be 1) sealed 2) stained or 3) painted. The only way to match the preexisting fence was of course to paint. The stain on the preexisting fencing was aged and would be impossible to match unless stripped down and there was the white DAP problem to overcome. So we decided to paint the whole thing. The first color we tried looked like ladies foundation make-up. The redwood color was too dark and after several trips to Home Depot and a secret paint formula kept here at home in our vault we got a color that was "just right." Or, I'm too tired and frustrated to care what it is. I bet this never happened to Martha Stewart. Let's just get this dog into the yard.

While the fence was going up Rascal was driving us crazy inside the house. We tied her outside but that didn't work because she would whine and cry and and garner us more complaints than the numerous ones we had already accrued. When we had the area partially closed in she would always manage to escape. When we tried to keep her on the porch she slithered under the lowest rail and got out that way. She went directly to the neighbor's yard and did her business there. One morning I tied her outside again trying to get her used to her new yard. I drove off to the market to get her a bone to keep her busy and occupied. When I arrived home I was accosted by a neighbor man who told me I was cruel to my dog and I was a "horrible neighbor" and people in this park were dog lovers and that was no way to treat an animal. I listened as politely as I could and I calmly said to him "What about patience and tolerance? We just moved here and we're having trouble getting the fencing up. I just left to get my dog a bone and have only been gone less than twenty minutes. Would it be kinder for my dog to be in a crate at a kennel, supposing I could afford it or take her to be put down?" I was in tears inside..."I am not a horrible neighbor" I told myself. I went to sit with Rascal in the yard. I was very surprised when the man came back over and apologized, said he was sorry, he was just a dog lover and couldn't stand to see Rascal tied up and crying. I told him the story of the fence and showed him what was happening and he went back to his double wide and called the park manager and told her that he withdrew his complaint and that "she is a nice lady." The bone that I bought at the market was spoiled and while waiting for the fence to still be finished, for three days Rascal emptied her bowels in the house. Horrible dog. It's a good thing the carpet is going.