This afternoon I finished fixing/painting the side of the house I was working on yesterday, the same house I’ve been working on–inside and out–for the past many weeks. So that’s it. Barring any hiccups or unforeseen projects, I’m done. The realtor said the house should be listed early this coming week. So I loaded up my tools, did one final trash run, and celebrated tonight with fried mushrooms and a piece of chocolate cake. And whereas I enjoyed this debauchery immensely, my stomach quickly pitched a fit.

My gut: ever the party pooper.

This is really the oddest feeling, to have an ongoing and seemingly never-ending project end. But this has been the case with so many other things in my life, and I can only assume will be the case with so many more, including this blog. One day something starts, it goes on for a while, and then one day it ends.

Well, either it ends or you do.

Whenever I complete a project, whenever something is over, I tend to stare in both disbelief and admiration (way to go, Marcus!). This evening after I put all the paint cans away and loaded up all my supplies, I did one final walk around the property just to take it all in. I remembered when my friends still lived there, when their home was full of their possessions and memories. Then I remembered all the boxes–all the boxes!–before they moved, and my cleaning all the walls and floors after they left. Little by little–somehow–we got it done.

The last couple of nights I’ve been struck with gratitude with respect to the entire ordeal. First, I’m glad for the work. It’s nice to be employed. But I’m also glad for all the help. Obviously my friends did A LOT of packing before they left, and today their realtor’s husband came by to patch some cracked concrete and haul off some branches I couldn’t fit into the back of Tom Collins (my car). And even though they didn’t do anything directly, my parents loaned me their vacuum cleaner and mop. For that matter, the hardware store provided me with paint, sandpaper, and–most importantly–mosquito spray (for a nominal fee, of course). My point is–we never do things completely alone.

It takes a village and all that shit.

When I got home this evening, I took a long, hot shower. Well, okay, fine–I took a bath. (I like baths. So sue me!) Anyway, I scrubbed the latex paint off my skin and washed the bug spray out of my hair. And–I don’t know–it was like nine o’clock, and I was SO READY for bed. Hell, at seven I was ready for bed; it gets dark SO FRICKIN’ EARLY these days, all I want to do is hibernate. Well, okay, fine–get fat and hibernate. And whereas I’d planned to blog and fall right to sleep, I got distracted by the internet and ended up watching every trailer and promo video I could find for the soon-to-be-released movie about Freddie Mercury. (Freddie Mercury was the lead singer for the band Queen, Mom. He himself was a queen and died due to complications related to AIDS.) Anyway, the movie looks FABULOUS. Granted, it doesn’t have ANYTHING to do with tonight’s blog, but–nonetheless–I can’t wait for it.

It occurs to me that I often “can’t wait” for a lot of things–can’t wait for this project to end, can’t wait for this Freddie Mercury movie to come out (no pun intended), can’t wait to go to bed. And yet there’s no rushing life; everything happens in its own time, in its own season. Something is always ending; something is always beginning. If we’re lucky, we’re able to find appreciation for this present moment, for what is, for the way things are–whatever they are–right here, right now.