respite

It is the January thaw. Without fail, every year, there are days in the middle of the deep freeze, when we get a respite of a sort. If you can call freezing rain and icy, impassible sidewalks and streets a respite. The thaw wreaks havoc in all kinds of ways. I remember living in an apartment where the stairs to our second floor flat were enclosed but unheated, and apparently not waterproof. The constant thawing during the day and freezing at night turned the whole flight of stairs into sheer ice. The bottom six or seven steps were a frozen slide. It was awful.

At least then we were renting. And while we weren't in control of when it would be fixed, at least we didn't have to pay for it, and we weren't responsible for the logistics. Now, the thaw has wrought havoc on my house. The house I own. The one for which I have complete and sole responsibility.

The roof is leaking. The roof, which I know was done in 2008 and appeared to be in good condition in September, is leaking. I have a hunch that it's the central drainpipe (it's a flat roof). And I have the good fortune (cue sarcasm) of having the drainpipe on my side of the semi-detached home. So my kitchen wall has a single tear of a dried, rusty stain on it. And my brand-new ceiling in the upstairs hall is showing signs of dampness.

My first reaction was, perhaps obviously: Are. You. Kidding. Me! I would have thought that my next would have been to cry, but it wasn't. Perhaps after having seen the guts of much of my house, seeing more isn't so daunting. I honestly believe that it's all fixable. I don't have endless buckets of money, but it's all fixable. But I am feeling down. I haven't much energy left for the logistics of it all.

Moments before I discovered the damp ceiling, a neighbour I met only this afternoon dropped by to invite me and the kids to dinner a little later in the evening. I accepted. Then I discovered the damage, and I so did not feel like going. But it was a blessing. I met a very kind man and his two lovely children - a girl Boo's age and a boy of 14. The six of us got to know one another over a delicious meal, and not once did I think of my house and its spilling guts. A respite. A real one.

Wish me luck. I hope I can sleep tonight. I have a tendency to let things roll over in my mind again and again to the exclusion of sleep (I didn't have one peaceful night's sleep through the two months of intense renovations). I need to learn to let go of it. Goodness knows it'll be there in the morning.