Planning, purchasing, and building is wearing on me. I am not a shopper. I have a tendency to view acquisition through the lens of existentialism, no one owns the rock. We are absurd to believe that our proprietary attitudes affect random reality.
A good plan is irresistibly, deceptively, comforting. I used to luxuriate in having no plan at all. That ship sank at the dock when people began to follow me around. I’m sure you know which people I’m referring to, the people who expect me to participate in their plans, the people who demand that I facilitate their dreams, the people with those big, baby blues. The plan is to protect the people.
If the snow ever melts we will resume building. Meanwhile, we have acquired windows, doors, door knobs, lighting and ceiling fans, as well as a lovely piece of FREE stained glass. Building materials and plumbing fixtures have been selected but there is nowhere to store them until the imaginary building is erected. I don’t like having a big pile of parts with nowhere to put them. It’s unsettling.
The collaborative aspect of the plan is enticing. In the beginning The Mastermind said to me, “You can pick everything out, it will be fine.” I insisted that he look at some of the lighting fixtures I was considering. Suddenly, he had opinions! In the kitchen there will be “colorful lights”. I can’t think of the “colorful lights” without my heart melting a little bit. In the living room and in our bedroom there will be ceiling fans because The Mastermind doesn’t want to be “cooked alive”. His thermostat has always been just a little bit off, whereas mine is perfectly calibrated. There will be bronze knobs and pulls on the lower kitchen cabinets, thus there will be bronze doorknobs on the doors. Be advised that The Mastermind, only too happy to select cabinet pulls and knobs, had the audacity to question matching doorknobs. I thought everything I chose would be “fine”.
Anticipation accompanies plans. Before there were people to protect, I was prone to anticipatory excitement. Now, married to The Mastermind, who my sister euphemistically refers to as Nostradamus (no day would be complete without doom in it), I’ve become wary of anticipation lest anticipation sour to regret. In my heart, I believe that every day is a fresh start on a happy ending (that’s going on the wall above the kitchen sink). The Mastermind is so exceedingly cautious of jinxing his entire life that he expects devastation and disaster at every turn. Contrary to his superstitions, there is no plot afoot to undermine our happiness. There isn’t. We live in a random universe or multiverse where our imaginary control, along with our imaginary building, is an absurdity. We may as well have fun with it.