Anything that can happen, will happen. That's the theory. Comes to pass all the time. I never need proof of it's existence.
Got a call day before yesterday that a (very large) barge hit Fifer late Saturday night. There have been some rough storms up there, and she's tied outside of some other boats. She's right in the River, so it's not a huge leap to think that something like this could happen. The damage is pretty extensive, but not too alarming. It hit the bow of Fife (good amount of damage there), and during the time they were trying to move her back into place they ripped out a cleat. Probably 5-10k worth of damage. It was the barge companies fault--they will pay for the repairs.
This leads me to the place I am right now. We're in a house I'm done with--ready to make the move. I feel that I've already made the emotional detachment, so the time I'm spending here (though I'm enjoying--the sense of accomplishment is amazing) is frustrating. Nothing leaves as fast as I want it to. I either make the arrangements to have it picked up and something happens that I can't have it leave. Usually this is due to Vince not being about 10 people. He can't do it all. I'm afraid I'm not very well versed on putting tires on tractor rims--perhaps we wouldn't be having this discussion if I could. Lol. There are also the folks who promise to come and get things, then stall out. Ads that need to be written. Never get that done, either--because I don't know what the hell they are, these items. I have to learn to take it easy. It will all get done. I'm trying to concentrate on the things that I CAN do, not the things I can't. If I don't do that, I'm going to drive Vince insane. I have one foot out the door, and one foot on Fifer. This particular dilemma won't be any better until I have BOTH feet on Fifer. In the meantime, so much more to do.
So I try not to freak out, thinking of all the things we have to do to be ready to sell the house on the time-line we have made. I know that things have to be done in order--make things disappear, then work on the house to have it ready to sell. I try and enjoy the ride, while Murphy's Law ensues.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Patience is a Virtue?
I usually believe that being patient is a good thing. But it doesn't feel like it at all. I'd just like to move down the board and be done with the game at this point. Visiting Fifer and then coming home to face the realities of what still needs to be done here at home is rather maddening, really. She sits up in Canada waiting for us to come and do the work--and yet here we are, wrapping up old bits that we are very much done with. At least mentally.
There is still so much to do--and the inevitable "necessary" things to get done always seem to overlap. You go outside to clean/organize this, and there's something else that beckons. It's hard to stay focused. I've made a mental list of all the things that need to be done, and I'm moving through that--keeping in mind that I still have a household to run. It will all work out in the end, I try and keep that at the forefront of my mind. This is difficult as I watch Vince thrash around getting pissed off at the menial tasks he has to do in order to clean-up and down-size. I stress as much as he does, worrying about what the house will sell for (although it really doesn't matter--we could sell this place for MUCH less than it's worth and have plenty of money to deal with Fifer). I think about the things we still have to sell--the VW's, the Mercedes, the trucks, tractors--odds and bits. I want as many of these things to go before we make the big move. Seeing things go on to other caretakers makes me extremely happy. All these items have value to people, and I love to see folks pick up the torch and run with them. Selling Mini-Molly (a 21 ft. 1957 Owens Flagship Cruiser) was such a fantastic feeling. The guy who bought it really loved it, and was excited to get it up and running. This is my hope for all these things. When you collect very old things, you have to realize that you are simply the caretaker. You do the maintenance and show the craftsmanship of these things to a new generation. One day the thing, whether it is an automobile, boat or well-crafted piece of furniture, will be passed on to the next caretaker. You never own these things--you CARE for these things. It's a huge responsibility. I don't look at most of them as inaminate objects. Especially wooden boats. I see them as "living" things. It's hard for me to let go of that, to let the next person in line take over the responsibility of keeping the boat in good condition.
Having said that, Fifer is next in line. If we hadn't stepped in, it would not be long before she was completely beyond repair. There is a window for these boats--once that time-period is exceeded it is extremely difficult to bring them back. It happens to many wooden boats, boats that have history and value. The are the casualties of a bad economy, or the lack of expertise of their caretakers.
I'm impatient to get on with the next chapter. I will swallow that and soldier on. Can't get down the road if you don't travel the distance first. I'm hoping I can take my own advice I so often give to others and actually enjoy the ride.
There is still so much to do--and the inevitable "necessary" things to get done always seem to overlap. You go outside to clean/organize this, and there's something else that beckons. It's hard to stay focused. I've made a mental list of all the things that need to be done, and I'm moving through that--keeping in mind that I still have a household to run. It will all work out in the end, I try and keep that at the forefront of my mind. This is difficult as I watch Vince thrash around getting pissed off at the menial tasks he has to do in order to clean-up and down-size. I stress as much as he does, worrying about what the house will sell for (although it really doesn't matter--we could sell this place for MUCH less than it's worth and have plenty of money to deal with Fifer). I think about the things we still have to sell--the VW's, the Mercedes, the trucks, tractors--odds and bits. I want as many of these things to go before we make the big move. Seeing things go on to other caretakers makes me extremely happy. All these items have value to people, and I love to see folks pick up the torch and run with them. Selling Mini-Molly (a 21 ft. 1957 Owens Flagship Cruiser) was such a fantastic feeling. The guy who bought it really loved it, and was excited to get it up and running. This is my hope for all these things. When you collect very old things, you have to realize that you are simply the caretaker. You do the maintenance and show the craftsmanship of these things to a new generation. One day the thing, whether it is an automobile, boat or well-crafted piece of furniture, will be passed on to the next caretaker. You never own these things--you CARE for these things. It's a huge responsibility. I don't look at most of them as inaminate objects. Especially wooden boats. I see them as "living" things. It's hard for me to let go of that, to let the next person in line take over the responsibility of keeping the boat in good condition.
Having said that, Fifer is next in line. If we hadn't stepped in, it would not be long before she was completely beyond repair. There is a window for these boats--once that time-period is exceeded it is extremely difficult to bring them back. It happens to many wooden boats, boats that have history and value. The are the casualties of a bad economy, or the lack of expertise of their caretakers.
I'm impatient to get on with the next chapter. I will swallow that and soldier on. Can't get down the road if you don't travel the distance first. I'm hoping I can take my own advice I so often give to others and actually enjoy the ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
