October 21, 2009

  • useless appendage for a day.

    I was just standing there waiting for orders, as Dad conversed with the high-strung, metrosexual-SantaClaus-lookalike architect, whose most-worked muscles are the ones in his constantly-pursed lips; the bald, eccentric, turkey-necked, supposed womanizer who really has to be a bisexual homeowner - who actually wears underarmour like a shirt (who does that unless they're an athlete or a young teenage boy?); and of course: cigar-smoking, big-blue-eyed, little-boy-faced Joe - Dad's beloved JOEYYYY - who I have a lot more respect for as of late after watching him sweep up after other people. And I am very grateful to him for buying my Yoda statue back from me at full price (even with it missing the nameplate that I lost in the move back to this house; without knowing how much I needed the money -- God knew, though, and He never lets me down).

    I had been waiting over an hour as they discussed receptacle placement, bulb wattage, track lighting, stainless steel countertops' reflective powers, the width of plywood and drywall, floor outlets, sculpture lighting, museum-grade cove lights... It made me sort of dizzy, but Dad was getting questions answered so all was well in the end. I just felt my hands itching to help, rather than my person being seen as a useless appendage -- a phantom limb, on a purposeless day. I was hiding in the basement, but then I felt like a creeper, so I came upstairs just in case my assistance may have been necessary.

    I ended up helping Joe look for his printer, brought down a runtal box for him (whatever that is?), helped him take stuff off of his gang box so he could open it, fetched Bill (John's partner, not Coleman's partner) a business card of Dad's... it was already almost two in the afternoon at that point. My distinct feeling that not much was going to be physically accomplished came true. But, planning got done, and Paul doesn't mind paying for the extras he's adding, so that's more money for Dad.

    It was kind of quiet there today without older-than-my-dad Eric there (the carpenter who looks like a grownup version of Gabriel from the Treehouse - the little boy who told me I had to call him Adorable instead of Handsome -- or was it Handsome instead of Adorable? :D ) to yell my name across the building when a question pops in his head or in my defense if he thinks someone is picking on me. Plus, no one had a radio on today, while Eric usually has indie rock blaring so I can hum along shyly with Feist and Vampire Weekend while hammering stubborn staples into submission.

    Finally, I was seated on the stairs; listening to the hmms and "Well what about..."s; my back to a cool cement wall; smelling the dank, asbestos-ridden basement air; hoping that a few weeks does not mesothelioma create. I love seeing everything raw and gutted like this - man's feeble creation, in carefully calculated steps. But I can't wait until it's finished and gorgeous - all the hard work made worthwhile.

    I could say the same about my life.

    I can't wait to see it with my eternal eyes.