I got hella done today!
Yesterday was my final day wearing the fabled Orange Apron at Ho(t)me(n) Depot. It was bittersweet. My department head came in on the last day of his vacation to say goodbye and wish me well; everyone in Kitchen and Bath gathered around to let me know what a great guy I was to work with. An assistant manager gave me a hug.
Then I went home to watch the Season Two opener of Mad Men and have a total stress reaction.
I mean, Geez! This is it! No turning back now.
I was worried that I'd spend the day sitting around in my pajamas and pulling my lower lip with my index finger to make a "b-bih-b-bih-b-bih-b-bih" sound. That was circumvented by having to get my lazy ass out of the house to go and take my car to get the AC fixed. While it was in the shop, I went and sat at Starbucks at State and Main in Doylestown.
Oh. And I brought the local phone book with me.
And hence: I got hella done today!
To wit: tomorrow a guy from My Handyman is coming to my house (alas, not Marshall, the hot one) to fix the tile in the back bathroom, replace a the wall mounted air conditioner with one that works, and clean the gutters; next Monday, Ben will be here from the moving company to give me an estimate on what it will take to move my stuff to Palm Springs; my AWOL painter, Gus, is back on board and will be here to finish up Wednesday through Saturday; tomorrow night the owner of Do It Now Services who previously cleaned up my backyard back in the Spring will come by and put in a bid to clean out the tenant house next door; I figured out a way to sell my dad's '96 Ford Taurus with a V8 engine and only 35,000 miles on it from here in Pennsylvania; I bought an air conditioner for the guy from My Handyman tomorrow (not Marshall the hot one) so he'll have something to work with; and returned a few phone calls.
Unfortunately, one thing I didn't manage to accomplish was getting AC in my Jeep Liberty. It seems I need a new compressor, and they didn't have a new one lying around. So I'll have to take care of that anon.
And slowly but surely, things are making their way into boxes and the boxes are getting stacked in the livingroom for transport to my storage space.
Every day I'm a little bit closer to Palm Springs.
And here's an interesting thought that occurred to me: I'm going to die in Palm Springs.
Don't be alarmed.
I'm not talking within a few days of my arrival. Or months or years. Hopefully not for a long time.
But I just have this peaceful sense that one day--hopefully far in the future--I'll breathe my last in the Coachella Valley.
I've never felt this way before about any place I lived. Dying in Philadelphia? Can you imagine anything worse? But what about dying in NYC? Auspicious, surely. But complicated, too, right? I mean, unless you have a lot of money, it would mean a really bumpy ride on a guerney down the four flights of stairs that lead to your cramped walk-up. And although being buried out of the Church of St. Luke in the Fields is a nice thought, buried where exactly? Or, more correctly, spread where? On the tracks of the subway line you rode most often? Having my ashes spread in the Fire Island Pines has its appeal, but on whom could I prevail to tote the little box of me out the LIE, down to the ferry, across the Great South Bay, and so on to find a nice spot for my eternal repose? And Bucks County would be a nice place to die, but I've always felt that beautiful as it is, I don't belong here. No one I love or care about lives in Bucks County. Not that I know many people in Palm Springs, but I sense that will change. It seems so permeable there. Something of a "Welcome, Stranger!" vibe to the place.
But dying in Palm Springs just works. It seems like such a pleasant place to spend your last days. And I imagine friends and acquaintances gathering after the service over chardonnay at poolside somewhere. And it's a short drive out into the beautiful desert for the spreading o' the ashes. And if at the end of my life, I'm in reduced circumstances, I can't help but feel that California State Government would just be a little bit more benevolent than New York or Pennsylvania. That from some quarter I'd hear, "Don't worry about that, Mr. Kramer, we're taking care of that down at the office."
But overall, I feel like I'm going home. Like John Denver to the Colorado Rockies. Y'know, "Its like going home again to a place you've never been."
I'm here in Bucks County for thirteen more days. And then, I'm going home. Where the heart is. Where one day I shall die.