The building has gotten quite difficult in the last while. I’m not sure that my ninja skills are entirely up to this task but I know there’s not much choice at this stage of the game. The combination of the height of the domes and the door and window frames being “in the way” have made for some tricky maneuvering and lots of climbing up and down (and up and down and up…). Not so long ago it was easy enough to just put the buckets of mix next to us on the ground, or along the wall, and heft them into the bags. But now the walls are so high that we’re having to climb with the buckets, and because of the frames we can’t simply line the buckets up on the wall. I did try leaping over a frame yesterday, unmindful to the fact that I was wearing sandals, and managed to stab myself in the foot with barbed wire as I came down on the other side and lost a shoe. The amount of blood was impressive. Alas, it won’t leave a sexy scar like the barbed wire that caught my neck and jaw the other week so I’m stuck with just the pain of walking on it right now.
Anyway, so the progress has become painfully slow. And it’s late in the season- I’m f*cking tired. And wondering why I didn’t just lie to Shane at the outset of our relationship and pretend to be one of those fluffy women, the kind who likes to lunch and get pedicures and sit sipping ice tea under the shelter of a big umbrella? That’s the problem when you marry your best friend- too late to lie. And then- this is the kicker- I’m the one who suggested that we could build our own house out of mud. “Why not? We can do it!” What the hell was I thinking? I don’t even get the satisfaction of asking, “who the heck came up with this bright idea?” Of course Shane is always suggesting that I “take a day off” and the thought is appealing, but I’m afraid that a day off would entail catching up on the housework I’ve put off for several months now. Ya, no thanks- I’ll keep working the site.
Technically, I’m breaking right now. We were ridiculously low on baked goods so I have cinnamon rolls baking in the oven and I get to rest for another fifteen minutes or so. But it’s at a price as I watch the temperature on the thermometer rising by the minute and dread how hot it’ll be on the site by the time these are done. What a scorching summer it’s been. So you get the picture- complain, complain, complain- breathe- complain some more. That sums up my attitude over the last few weeks. Don’t even get me started on how my body feels- our house currently weighs about 75 tons and that weight has been moved several times, from the gravel pit, to the cement mixer, to buckets, and into bags. I’m 5’7 and small boned (okay, whatever, ‘medium’ boned) for goodness sake- I’m not built for this shit.
For all my complaining, I was reminded yesterday of why I am doing all of this. As I stood on top of the dome wall in my underwear watching the blood drip off my foot and onto the bags below I heard a familiar shrill call and looked up to see two eagles circling. I stopped and took a deep breath in. Clean air. Eagles soaring above me. The sound of coyotes in the distance. Our garden overflowing with abundance next to the house we’re building. The house we’re building. On land that we’re giving back to instead of just taking from. Incredible. Such a long way from the city life we led not so long ago. And once we have this thing established we’ll be able to simply maintain it, and it will provide for all our needs- rather than going to work and having someone decide how much our time is “worth” only to turn around and spend said allotment on our needs… And I’ll get to spend all of my time with the coolest guy I’ve ever known- hanging out, tending the garden, keeping bees, learning…
Yeah- I guess it’s worth the blood, sweat and tears put into it now when you look at it that way.