An Easy Choice
2nd September, 2006
by Moni Schilller
Though at times I struggle with myself when it’s time to go to a fitness class, most of the time the choice is easy - I go. I do it because I feel so good afterwards, and also because I know that the Ritter Sport chocolate bar I wolf down just minutes before falling asleep would do so much more damage without the classes.
It’s September, which has long been my favourite month. Luke will turn 20 on September 10th, so mom and Gerry will come up for a family celebration. I try to focus on all the positive things, such as the beautiful warm days and the preponderance of flowers in the garden.
Yet, as I kick through inches of sawdust toward my front door, and have to put shoes on to tip toe through drywall and plaster debris to do the laundry, I can’t help but feel murderous toward the contractor. He did say the job would take two to three weeks, and now we are into week seven, with no end in sight.
The other day I wished that I’d had a blood pressure cuff, as I would’ve been curious to see how high my blood pressure had gone. “The Mudder” thought his crack cocaine-addicted assistant was at our house doing what he was supposed to do. After four days with no trades people in sight, I phoned the contractor and left a message asking when we might expect to see one.
The next day The Mudder arrived all in a flap, as he didn’t know that his illustrious employee had not been here prepping the walls for the painters. Now the painters were backed up, annoying the floor layers and cabinet installers. I heard the contractor reaming some people out as his nerves probably are taking a beating right now, too. There simply are NO trades people to be found, and this has to make one feel very afraid when one isn’t sure which end of the screwdriver is which (moi).
So there we are. Our old van is parked on the top of the driveway, and is filled with clothes that were hanging downstairs. After seven weeks in extreme heat, I’m a bit scared to look. Then there’s the dirty garage filled with out basement furniture. I luckily didn’t take any chances with my Barbie, Ken, Midge and Skipper dolls and their clothes. These are safely stored in the root cellar.
Never mind the baking I have to do, and can’t, as my kitchen isn’t ready. I now have Urban Fare, Capers Markets, and several other stores indicating that they will be ordering for Christmas, and here I pace, with a vision of my hands around the contractor’s throat. It’s another thing like fitness, it would just feel so good. But, seriously, that’s what an hour of cardiovascular activity is for. You are barely able to suck air, never mind think bad thoughts, so it’s a very Zen experience to boot.