Counting

It’s been over a month now. Six weeks, perhaps. My last entry was the day before my surgery for a torn rotator cuff. Actually, it was completely ripped. I now have six little nails holding at least part of it in place.

Now it has healed enough that the pain is only humming under its breath. Horrible tune, but it’s nice that it’s become background noise rather than tubas blaring in my face all the time.

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I hate the jihadists for ruining September for me. It’s probably my favorite month. A bit cooler, the figs are ripening…and left over from my childhood the echoes of new school shoes on a freshly waxed linoleum floor as I walk into class. September is for beginning again, not mass murder. Stupid jidiots.

The painters and carpenter come everyday to fix things and make them pretty. The front and back doors have finally been painted. They are removing some rotted siding and replacing it with new, machine-smooth planks. The original part of the house has the handmade planks – kind of rough and uneven. Mostly they never seem to wear out, even though they’re probably seventy years old by now and we live in a humid climate.

They painted the music room. Or what used to be the music room. After The Boy left for college we loaned the piano to his older brother so the kids could start piano lessons. And, of course, the guitars are gone, and the music books. A professional organizer told me that when you’re still calling a room by its former function, that’s a sign you need to start reshuffling you life.

Amongst the detritus I found a big poster board that used to sit atop the piano. Printed on it, in a huge font was the word “COUNT!” This was supposed the piano to remind Our Boy to mentally count to himself while practicing. Don’t know that it ever worked completely…

When they painted the room, the mural that was behind the piano was obliterated. I took a picture of it before they kilzed it with several coats followed by a pretty yellow paint called “Petal.” (Where do they come up with these paint names???) The Baron and The Boy drew that mural more than fifteen years ago, but it was time…sic transit gloria is a hard, hard experience for some in this house.

When it’s all done, the music room will be the DVD room since we’re going to buy a big monitor for watching movies. Then new visitors won’t look around curiously and ask “so where’s your TV?”

Oh heck. The time has come for self-inflicted pain with my home practice moves to keep my shoulder joint mobile. Come to think of it, I have to count my way through twenty repetitions of varying levels of pain. The worst is using my left hand to raise my right arm as far up as it will go.