So Here I Am Ch. 07

Paul turned to me, shrugged, and gave me a shy smile, "Well, she definitely knows what she wants." I laughed and leaned in and gave him a hug. Surprisingly he returned the hug without hesitation. "Don't be a stranger, you are welcome at my bar anytime." He hoisted his glass and downed the last bit of his bourbon, set the glass down, and turned to the door. "Welcome home JP!" he said, and walked out the front door, got in his truck, and drove away.

I looked around me and realized I was finally alone. My own place, with no bed, no furniture, no food, and dishes, pots, or pans with which to cook the non-existent food. I sighed, looked at my watch, and figured I had enough time before dark to go to my apartment and grab my airbed, clothes, and a few essentials and get back here to spend my first night in my new place.

Smiling, I finished my ale, locked my front door, and headed back to the apartment.

I pulled into my parking space and took a moment to think about what I needed. Planning is the key to success and I wanted to get everything I needed and could carry and get back out to the ranch as fast as possible. I went in and went straight to my bathroom. Took all my daily grooming supplies and threw them in my toiletry bag. A quick trip to the bedroom, to grab most of my clothes and shoes, stuffed them in my suitcase, and took those things out to the car. Running back in I grabbed my hiking backpack and my duffle bag which contained all my hiking/camping gear. Running out and throwing those in the car I took one more trip in. Grabbed my laptop, my airbed, blankets, and my cooler. Stopped in the kitchen and raided the fridge. Drinks, snacks, and anything that looked like it wanted me to eat it, all went in the cooler, and I was done.

Got everything into my car, backed out, and headed to the store. In Walmart, I grabbed some bubbly water, a couple of premade salads, a rotisserie chicken, and as a last thought, a bundle of firewood, just in case. 15 minutes in the store and I was on my way. 30 minutes later I was driving back up the couple hundred-yard drive to my new house. I stopped my car and looked around. For 20 years or more I envisioned having a place like this. Originally that was supposed to be the early retirement home for my wife and me. There is definitely a sadness that comes with that. I'm where I've wanted to be and yet I'm not able to share it with the one who helped give birth to the idea. I think, if life was extremely cruel, I'd be a widower reflecting on this moment. But as it is, there is a sense of sadness overlayed by a feeling of anger at the futility of dreams realized but not to their full potential.

I'm suddenly struck by the thought that I don't know how I'm going to refer to my new home. Is it my home, my farm, or my ranch? It feels as if it is more than a home, but I just can't see it being anything more just yet. I have plans. Oh. My Fucking. God. I have plans coming out of my ass. Whether or not they are doable is another story. Resigning myself to the feelings of joy, gratitude, loss, confusion... and others I cannot really identify, nor want to dwell on, I get out of the car and start hauling the supplies in.

Sundown. The back porch faces west, and I'm sitting in my camp chair, finishing the last of my salad and chicken. Not surprisingly I've nearly finished the last three bottles of Newcastle, and, unfortunately, it looks like I've nearly polished off the bottle of Maker's Paul brought me. I've been sitting here for a couple of hours, staring at the grassy plains rushing to the hills of Curt Gowdy. Sipping whiskey and looking out over my kingdom. It hasn't been a complete waste of time though. I've been diligently working in my AutoCAD program, planning out and detailing the house renovations I want to do, as well as the location and size of the greenhouse, the alterations and upgrades I want to make to the barn/stable, and a myriad of other plans and dreams rushing through my inebriated skull.

The house is my first priority, update the kitchen a little bit. For some reason, the house has gas central heating but no gas line running to the kitchen or the water heater. Those are first on my list -- no one who truly likes to cook uses an electric stove if they have an option, and I won't either. The bathroom needs an update, and the flooring needs help. Fortunately, there is salvageable hardwood under the ugly carpets so that is an easy fix. Well, not easy, but doable without hiring someone, same with the bathroom update. The basement is a mixed bag. Some drywall up, some not. I think I just need to strip it and finish the whole thing myself.

Overlayed on my laptop is a list of needs. I need a plumber to run gas lines and check the plumbing in the kitchen, bathroom, and basement. Then an electrician to do the wiring. The rest is up to me unless I want to contract it out to someone. I can do framing, floors, drywall, and finish work, but do I have the time, or the energy to do it all? Lastly, there's the greenhouse and barn/stable... I stop, take a deep breath and remind myself that I am here till I die, I'm not in such a rush that I can't take some time and do it step by step.

I make a note to call Joanne to see if she knows trustworthy people I can bring in to do the licensed stuff. It's a lot on my plate and it's starting to overwhelm me. I sit back, swallow the next to last measure of Maker's and turn off my laptop. Sitting on my porch, the sunset fading on the horizon, I take a drink of ale, pour the last ounce of bourbon, and smile into the dying sunlight.