tonight the house is dark

The electricity has been shut off. The house is completely dark. The electrician began his handy work promptly at 7:30 yesterday morning, and now there are holes in the walls and ceilings. There is plaster dust and sawdust everywhere. And wires poking out. And step ladders reaching up to work that has yet to be done.


There is more work to do at the house. There is always more work. I could have gone in to measure the bathroom walls to figure out how much insulation I need, how many 2x4s. I could have tidied a bit. Could have papered some more shelves in the kitchen. Swept. Taken out some trash. But it will have to wait.


Relief and panic: odd that I can feel both simultaneously. Relief that I get a break - at least from the work. (There is never a break from the endless to-do lists I have rolling around in my head.) But panic, too. The house, at this very moment, is a complete disaster and unliveable: no bathroom, no electricity, walls in pieces. If my crew - and that's what I have working at the house right now - were to abandon me, I would have nothing. My house is only as good as the promise of the work that will be done. I have to rely on Walter the Electrician, Will the Apprentice, Frank the Plasterer, Chase the Plumber and trust that they will do the work. These are the people in my neighbourhood. And while yes, I am paying them for their work, they are part of my community that are making this dream possible. Total strangers.

Then there those who have been part of my life, of my community, for a good long while, who have been pitching in, one way or another. Friends who helped me rip out walls. Who did more than half the plumbing in the house. Who scrubbed a kitchen that hadn't seen soapy water in at least a few years. Who will help me build a wall and insulate it. Who gave me advice on light fixtures. Who let me bounce countless decorating ideas off them. Who give me names of people they trust. Who just very simply, but very importantly, care for me. Who listen to my panic and tell me I've got this.

So for tonight, the house is dark. Gloomy. Unwelcoming. An empty shell. Soon, Walter the Electrician will install those gorgeous light fixtures, and Frank the Plasterer will make my walls beautiful and smooth, and Shane the HVAC specialist will install the new furnace, and my house - the bricks and mortar - will become a home. With a warm glow in the dead of a cold winter. I can just about see it.