As I’ve said before, my coping mechanism in this situation is to imagine the worst-case scenario and come up with a plan. Part of me likes to think I’m prepared just in case and part of me thinks, if I think the worst, it won’t happen… It’s very morbid and very wrong but it works for me. Hey, it’s much more proactive than Tigger the Dog’s process when Husband is away. She paces from the side of his bed to his office chair to his TV chair to his piano looking for him, holding one or two or three of her babies in her mouth and doing her Chewbacca whine the whole time. It’s awesome. Not.
So, with Husband in Boston, I started to plan a ‘What if… life without him.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I would be screwed, seriously and totally screwed.
First off, Husband hasn’t finished the wiring in the Kitchen/Den. It’s in the walls, and it’s labeled but it’s not attached to the power board thingy. And I have no idea how to wire up anything electric. I think the fact that I called it a ‘power board thingy’ is evidence of that.
He’s hired a guy to come do spray foam insulation next week – and yeah, we have no insulation in the Kitchen/Den Attic, and Basement and it’s 20 freaking degrees outside and not much warmer inside. Ugh. Anyway, guy comes in next week to do that. Then all we need to is; buy sheetrock, attach it to the walls, patch the ceiling holes, paint the whole thing, put in a hardwood floor, install the kitchen, finish the fireplace… and that’s just this phase of the project that is our home. The “master” bathroom is still a pink leaking eyesore. The carpet in the bedrooms is a pee stained mess thanks to the former owners many animals that seemed to just go where they pleased. And my office is still just cinderblock walls and linoleum floors...
And even with me selling off his cars – and yes, I did Kelley Blue Book them. That is how I roll. - Even with me selling off the cars, how the heck will I afford to hire contractors do all the remodeling and keep myself in the manner I’m accustomed to living –the occasional night out and lots of chips and ice cream while I watch trash TV? I’d have to get a roommate. And other than Mom, who was forced to, Husband is the only roommate I’ve ever had that I could live with. Even Tigger the Dog would agree with that.
That’s it. Husband can’t die. I don’t have a plan ready or the skills to implement most of the To-Do list.
Oh. And I’d miss him terribly. There’s that too.
I’ve currently got fingers crossed that Husband makes it safely home. Fingers and legs and hair… heck, I’ve even crossed the Tigger the Dog’s legs, he’s that important to us!
(and to the house)
Now, as soon as he wakes up, we should go buy sheetrock. I don't want to be behind on the remodel project if he dies anytime soon...