Week One

It is so quiet here, I can hear people talking when they take twilight walks and are a block away.

Not even a week here, and I forgot what it was like not to live here. I'm on the Neebes' sofa, Mr. Neebes and the Sisterwife upstairs sleeping, Em and H are at their grandmother's house, and for a few brief moments, Tim and A are downstairs, playing with the controlled chaos of a 5 and 3 year old. I've fixed their breakfast, listened to them tell me about the morning, and watched tumbling, all accompanied by, "Miss Quin! Watch!". Kids don't get it that I am not good with kids, or perhaps it's because I laugh or scold, I'm not sure... but, they have dogged my steps since I came back.

Not such a bad thing, except when you are in the bathroom, and you hear breathing, and then, "Can you see my fingers under the door?"

My house will, with luck, be ready to move in by Tuesday. I have to say, the work the Zenmaster put into it in December is amazing. Since he's my business partner now, he gets part of the proceeds when the thing sells, to allow him to become a Flipping Zenmaster. The back garden has to be pulled out, dead grass and all, and I am looking forward to planning a nice cottage garden out there, to enjoy when it's the cool of the evening.

The Investment has become Sisterwife and my rent boy. You see, we laugh so loudly, no one ever wants to sit by us in a play or a film. We also make comments if the film sucks (trust me, there are films I've seen here where there is no one else in the place). No one laughs at the other person's really bad comments as much as she and I do, so, we needed a rent boy. We pay his way in, give him popcorn, a drink and some gummy bears, and he will go with us and sit without complaining.

He's also attached his ass to the front seat of Norma. Gee, I wonder what it is like to own a car? To drive one?

Along with my work as Prop Goddess, I've also been assigned set dressing. Still, I'm doing so much less than I used to, and, I'm getting paid so, woot!

Still waiting for my multitude of boxes to arrive... I keep my clothes in the back of the family van, and my personal items sit next to me on the floor. Thankfully, I remembered to look in all of the cupboards before I left... Up in one was a small ziplock bag, with some odd material inside. I sniffed, I looked at it in the bag, wondering, "What is this? A spice? Something from the last tenant that I missed when I moved in?" I wet my finger to touch it and taste it when it came to me what it was...

The last little tablespoonful of my Dad's ashes from when I buried him in September.

Yeah, very glad I realised it before I tasted, although he'd have found it very, very amusing. Far more than I would have, trust me, when I discovered it, and sat there spitting yelling, "EW! EW!".

I made sure I marked the bag this time... 'DAD'. I'm not taking chances again.

Life is slow, steady, a bit sad--and it waits for me to discover what is there to see.