Ryan and his crew are stripping the roof over the bedroom.
A1 phoned earlier, said they’d be dropping off equipment and hoped to get started today.
Joe the carpenter texted last evening, said he’d be over tomorrow.
If all of this happens, it’ll be a big step forward.
I haven’t found:
I have found:
With Ron’s help, got some wall decor up, .
Roofing materials arrived this morning. Ryan took home a bunch of Lizzie’s leftovers. He made a joke about the CBD chews.
Nice sunset.
Lizzie loved her home in Tiverton and the field and the yard in Mashpee. She was starting to enjoy the yard here in Williamstown.
She liked to walk in the street, which was very dangerous here.
She was curious about everyone who came to the house.
She and Ron were great pals, especially on their walks.
She was sweet-natured and loving.
Lizzie’s passing has made me angry at her former owners.
I understand why they gave her up and perhaps I’d have done the same under the circumstances.
Even so, I think it was wrong to put her through changes in the last months of her life.
It’s been a relatively temperate winter here, but colder than in Tiverton.
I miss her but not her pain or blindness or cleaning up after her or the frustration of not knowing how to end her suffering. We spared nothing except experiences that maybe would have made us feel better but which she hated: grooming, having her nails clipped.
Anger is supposedly a stage of grieving, in which case I’m on track for depression next, then acceptance.
I hope Ron is okay. We did go to bed together last night, for the first time in many months. Evidently that’s something we both missed.
I was relieved to not have to send Liz out in bitter cold this morning or to creep around, fearing to wake her up, or to put barricades up around areas where she’d try to hide, get stuck and whimper or worse, get hurt.
Lizzie’s body is in a very beautiful part of Bennington.
I hope her spirit is with her brother and the people and places she loved.
I miss her, of course.
After we got back from Bennington, Ron and I did a couple of hours of light housework before our new carpenter and his wife came to check out my list of tasks.
It’s a surprise to realize how much time we spent trying to meet Lizzie’s needs: taking her out, cooking for her, being sure she had water, treats, grooming her (a little), trying to figure out what she wanted or needed. Other things were sacrificed as a result.
No wonder I’ve been exhausted and irritable. No wonder Ron’s mental capacity deteriorated over the last year. Since Lizzie came to live with us, he stayed up until midnight, 1 am, 2 am to keep her company and take her outside.
We both are feeling guilty anyway, but it’s astounding how much we got done this afternoon without having the worry of a very elderly, fragile dog.
Then again, busy-ness might be part of the grieving process, at least for some of us.
… I’d taken the cash offer or at least negotiated.
Scheduled the closing for November 30 instead of the 29th.
Ron had given me more help with organizing and packing.
The moving company hadn’t sent an asshat for a driver.
Ron and Lizzie had stayed in the Wareham motel on the night of November 29.
Ron had been willing to part with LPs and other “junk”.
Ron hadn’t wrecked his van; that started a decline in our way of life.
We’d moved sooner when Lizzie was better.
Lizzie hadn’t been so ill.
‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.
– Yehuda HaLevi
(1075 – 1141) was a Spanish Jewish physician, poet and philosopher.
We received the Vonage modem yesterday. I installed it this morning and requested that Spectrum cancel the Voice service.
Cape Cod Five has embarrassed itself again, seem unable or unwilling to trace the closing package they claim was delivered yesterday and either can’t or won’t provide the tracking number.
Turns out, the package was delivered yesterday to a mailbox. Just not ours. No delivery receipt requested. The neighbor at No. 64 dropped it off a few minutes ago. I opened a case with Fedex; they were equally surprised it wasn’t dropped at the door.
In complete disgust, I applied for a “Green” loan from Greylock, and pulled my application from Cape Cod Five. Maybe just as well: lower interest rate for the same home improvements we wanted to finance, like insulation, windows, roof, etc.
Garage floor is wet again, but the ceiling looks dry.
Cancelled Ron’s vehicle registration, removed his auto from the insurance policy. It wasn’t necessary for him to turn in the plates. I am mighty impressed that the Registry database was updated immediately.
Ron made an appointment for Lizzie’s euthanization tomorrow at Mt. Vincent Vet Hospital. She and I went out earlier in the rain. She’s asleep now but was stumbling around badly before, and that’s dangerous for her and for us, too.
The new unit is in! Our neighbor was on the two-man crew who installed it.
Ron is off to the transfer station and to Aubuchon. I went to the bank earlier and realized that my PIN was wrong. Picked up a book on hold at the library and changed the PIN once I got home.
Lizzie fell down the basement stairs but seems to be okay. She’s not had a particularly good day, falling a lot both in and out.
Ron checked out what appeared to be a locked padlock on one of the sheds and squared it away.
Found the checkbook that I couldn’t put my paws on and reconciled it along with one other.
Waiting for a couple of refunds, one from National Grid, the other from an online service.
The person in charge of a second remediation company checked out the attics and will give us a proposal between now and Monday.
Bland, disappointing vegetable dishes from Blue Mango.
Call from FEDEX, the fools at Vonage must have given them a wrong address for my modem. They will try to deliver the package tomorrow (Thursday).