Separation anxiety
I”m sure my kids appreciate parental attention, but there are probably limits. Tonight, two out of three are in the Big City to attend a concert. I’m happy for them, but there’s a whole other side to this affair; let’s call it separation anxiety.
You see, now that they’ve made the trek, we’re (two parents are better than one at this) suddenly aware of the danger of the Big City. People get shot down there. Buildings catch fire. There can be sudden floods and windstorms and (gasp) terrorizing attacks. The same risks were there last week, last year, but today the ante is much higher.
Kids, come home! Not for the rest of your life; I know you have to get out and take your place in the world. Just from this road trip. I’ll learn the lyrics so that you can have pretend concert. I’m waiting. Don’t be late. Call if anything happens. Call even if it doesn’t. Your parents miss you.
Diatribe over. Now I will get back to doing whatever it is that parents do around the house. Don’t you worry about me! I’ll be fine.
This afternoon, I designed and built a small shelf unit. I hadn’t seen one like it in local stores, and it had to fit a particular space, so I dug into the odds and ends that are stored in the basement for just such an eventual need. Bookends. Parts of an old metal chair. A shelf board purchased for a loonie at the local business surplus store (they didn’t have what I needed, either).
Careful measurements. Slowly drilled holes in the metal pieces. A first cut with the giant saw that sits upstairs awaiting a return to floor renos. And in the end, something that actually matched my expectations and met my needs. Pretty good way to spend the afternoon.
