My home, since my departure from the old country, has been a construction zone, literally. My life, my dear and long time readers has also has been a quest for sleep. That my dears has been, un-achievable. Another quirky quest, tho inadvertent, is time travel. This good morning, all would collide, giving yet again, more ammunition for another diatribe. In another twist in my time space continuous. To that end, I thought I opened my eyes 14 hours after I shut them. I had in fact put my book, “100 Years of Solitude.” on the clock radio, hitting, inadvertently again, the button to fast forward, taking me with it. In my sleepy stupor, it took me a while to figure all that out.

I have been ankle deep, in debris, dust, dirt and work men since my arrival here. The basement, for example, has been in various incarnations of excavations. The living-room transformed into a bedroom, was painted, the floors covered in brown paper. The project below stairs, deferred, as has been the case often in this tale of construction, as water, sewer and drainage pipes were discovered to be damaged and needing replacement. The simpler sleeve method, of course, was not going to work. Thus another level of excavation, freeing rodents, smell, and dust into the environment. All the excavations since my arrival done by hand by some of the men referred to earlier. Out the French doors which in the summer lead to the deck, now destroyed, is a digger. A 1500 pound baby back hoe. It has been in hibernation, it has never moved, covered in deep white snow, all curled up waiting, in anticipation to get to work of the removal of the pile of dirt. It orange claw and clam closed. Its imminent use, moving two tons of gravel into the black hole that is a basement.

In the meantime, the kitchen, was at torn out. Cardboard now lines every wall in the place, as the installation of the new one, was delayed by a couple of weeks, the original carpenter breaking his leg. His replacement arrived and added to the disarray with sawdust. While urban camping, I have at my disposal two frying pans, two plates, and two, well you get the picture. I celebrated at the dollar store, the partial installation yesterday by purchasing a pan, tinfoil, (which fell out of the bag somehow) and on the way home, vegetables. IN they went to the oven, for the first non frozen meal in the house since my arrival. The microwave working all the while. I even had a salad, using the burnt cheese nips, as croutons. Lost along the way as well, the garlic salad dressing. I had to purchase a big reusable bag, thus avoidably the guilt of a plastic bag, to carry all this back. You will recollect that I have 67 or so in storage back in the old country.

Back to one of the stories at hand. This morning was OFF to a tardy start, or not, depends on your perspective. I lay there thinking how on earth was that it was possible that I wanted to sleep MORE. Then the dragon, out the back roared to life. It farted, a few times, smelly black smoke evacuated itself. I had in anticipation of this moved the car, (see previous blog post for that un welcome to the neighborhood story.) to aide in the gravel trucks arc to get into the alley at the side of the house.

The dog, thinks she is getting a walk. I speedily and swiftly I might add, get dressed thinking this gravel deposit process is immediate. Trained by Gordon all those years ago, I just jump up, decaffeinated, I stuff my grey-headed and bleary-eyed body into outerwear, and more outer ware. The dog prancing about and getting in the way, thinking as she always does I will leave her behind. Which in close to 13 years, I never have I can assure. I digress, once again.

OUT we go, move La Tomato, forward, while the medieval monster noisily and aqumoves up and down the lane way to flatten the ton of snow not removed from several snow storms. That I am dressed is an accomplishment, I put Lucy in the car. To help and hurry her along, she is given a biscuit, to aide in getting into the back seat. We go 40 feet. She is slightly astonished, you can see it in her face, as getting in the car usually means several hours of going somewhere, when I turn off the car. Then encourage her to get out of the car.

Down the shrunken sidewalk we go. Lucy, goes into a familiar squat. I too am astonished as I cannot find her bags, in every pocket I have ever had, to pick it up. Now having been reprimanded by the neighbors for parking, I am not anxious for another criticism, for not doing my duty as a responsible dog owner. All I can say is thank God,dess that she has been on antibiotics and they are working. I race, raced I tell you, with droppings in hand, up the street, to deposit the offerings, that she left in the walkway to someones house.

All that excitement, phone calls to the owners of the property, emails and messages, and the dragon, is back in its familiar place, looking inward. The rock coming Monday, “for sure.”