What do you do with yourself when it’s all over? I mean, completely over. Totally over. The whole enchilada with guacamole and all the fixins.
Well, hold on, I don’t mean death. I’m talking about when you have had so much going on for so long and suddenly, soon, it will all wrap up. My master’s degree is done, and within a couple of weeks, the years of planning and the 6 months of building on our new house addition will quite suddenly come to an end. Poof!
And then what? THEN WHAT?
It’s like empty nest syndrome. What will we talk about at the dinner table? Right now conversations turn to wood floors, paint or how in the world we’re going to get the 13 tons worth of stuff we jammed into a storage unit back to the house. (I think we should just stop paying on it and let them throw it all away.)
Paint has been the big thing recently. Too many colors. Too many possibilities. Too many things to take into account (Does yellow mess up your early morning chi? Can you get paint that when you stare at it and squint your eyes, 3-D images of space ships and dinosaurs appear? Are paint runs ever considered stylish and hip? I want to know this since I’m doing all the painting.)
We want colors that are warm, tranquil and soothing … or at least I think that’s what we want. We’ve discussed this so much the past several weeks that I can’t remember if it’s that or cold, serious and resembling the Spanish inquisition. How do you keep track? But I think we want tranquil and soothing. That way if you can’t calm yourself down, you just come home, stare at a wall and all your troubles wash away. That’s putting a lot on some interior latex paint, but they do wonders these days. I saw one paint that promised it could help you breathe better and even win the lottery.
We’re looking at what are called no VOC paints, which is a fancy way of saying more expensive. In reality they’re not supposed to release potentially harmful chemicals into your house, which is definitely a good thing. Wouldn’t want them mixing with the chemicals that are being released by all the other harmful products and substances we buy.
But we pretty much have it all narrowed down — the best paint to buy, the colors we want, how I’m going to screw it all up as I roller it onto the wall. “So you say he was just painting and then the whole room burst into flames?”
And the crazy part is … what’s next? Nothing really. We’re reaching the end. And it’s as exciting as it is disorienting. This is what we have known for so long. Just like my master’s. I still haven’t adjusted to being able to go a full day without hearing strange words I don’t understand like pedagogy and quantitative.
When the addition is done it’s going to be an even bigger adjustment. What will I do when I don’t have to stare wide-eyed at overly complex spreadsheets I’ve created to track expenses or check the online bank account 25 times a day to make sure we still have money?
What will I do when I don’t have to answer difficult questions from my contractor, Mr. Chad, that go like this: “So, you want the porch to be green or gray?”
I stare at him like he’s just asked me to explain the theory of relativity. “Green or gray?” I ask him, almost angry. “How come you never come to me with easy questions? Can’t you just pick it? I thought you called yourself a professional!”
How do you fill your days when you don’t have to make decisions about things that you’ll have to live with for as long as you own the house?
I guess we’ll find a way. We don’t have a choice. The project is almost done and we’re almost out of money. So maybe we’ll take up Scrabble or spend our time rearranging our stuff. Or maybe we’ll just stare at our chemical-free walls and try to glimpse 3-D images of rocket ships. I could really get into that.