When I was younger, certain people in my life took umbrage when I said the word "can't." It was usually when I felt I had been pushed past my physical or emotional limits, and the person with me decided that I didn't know my own self and that they knew better. Surely I could keep skiing, wasn't afraid of heights, did know the answers. I wasn't allowed to say "I can't."
Now the person who tells me most often that "can't" isn't an option is myself. I hate making a commitment and then missing a deadline or not delivering what I feel I'm capable of. I beat myself up over can't all the time. This week, my deadline is pretty inflexible. Tomorrow morning, we must be driving west. We do not have the option of one more day. We agreed our listing would go live Thursday around lunchtime. I hired a cleaning crew who I thought was coming in the morning. They are actually coming in the afternoon, but we still can't wait and be here during the heat of the day. We need to gain elevation fairly quickly, to keep the carload of animals from overheating. We have to leave.
There is still painting to do. I spent the entire day painting trim and cabinets, and I will be at it for hours yet. Now that I've started down this path, I can't stop until I'm done. Four more upper cabinet doors, and four lowers, toe kick on one side. The stair rail. The shelves in the blue bedroom. It has to happen. Then we have to finish touch up paint for the darker gray. Finish packing the trailer. Find a few minutes to sleep. It doesn't seem possible to me now. There is junk in the garage not packed. There is still so much loose shit in the dining room where I've been sleeping. I can't do this. I can't stop.
I took a walk around the Park and said goodbye to my favorites. Trees we planted, flowers that bloomed are are mostly spent, the tea olive thicket that sealed the deal to buy the Park four years ago, and the two cherished friends who are slowly turning into beautiful bushes on either side of the grounds. I don't have the luxury to cry over them now, but that time will come. It's inevitable.
I tried to take a short nap at 8 thus evening, and all I did was make myself more tired. Once we set out tomorrow, we are driving straight through. With this many animals, there is no hotel in the world to give us a room. I wish energy drinks did something for me besides making me sick at my stomach. I also wish I could eat, but there are few options now that all my pots and pans are gone. I would have devoured a pizza tonight, if I didn't have empirical proof that it would double the time it takes to travel, with extra rest stops, and it would treble the pain. I know this is survivable, but I hate every second of it. I have to stand back up and pick up a paintbrush. We have work to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment