Sputterpub's Blog

It’s stunning to sit here and know that the work is complete.
Disrupted for months I’m accustomed to sharing my space.
At last I’m alone with no tradespeople stamping their feet
to minimize dust from construction all over the place.

I get to decide how I now spend my hours inside.
The mornings and evenings are mine to be fruitful or waste.
I deem the cost worth it. I view with approval and pride
selections for comfort and function displaying my taste.

I know that I’ll summon assistance as things wear or break,
but I’ll be in charge of most days, and relaxing the guard
that I’ve been maintaining this year. I’d a castle to make,
and now I’m enjoying the blessings of cottage and yard.

When I was 35, catastrophe
beset me and my body nearly quit.
They hooked me up to drips, did surgery
two times, and scanned for an appropriate
response to symptoms dangerous no doubt.
I carried on, reacting brave and wise,
and only when the final tube was out,
did I release the torrents from my eyes.

In similar cascade, but more mundane,
I weathered most the year without my nest.
I worked with every ask, did not complain,
agreed to all the scheduling requests,
and only now it’s over do I see
how much and long I suffered silently.

The job’s not perfect but it feels complete.
I see some minor damage and some flaws,
but I’ve declared it’s fine enough, and sweet
my solitary residence, because
I’m living now what I dreamt months ago.
I had to use imagination then;
I walked in mind through this, but now I know
results I’m loving daily. Even when
I’m tired, half-unfocused, still my eyes
find shapes and tones and textures bound to please.
The work that’s done and paid for gratifies,
and tradesmen’s dawn and dusk incursions cease.
I’m savoring results. My grin’s sincere,
for now I get to dwell well-furnished here.

Tomorrow I’ll be out of bed by six,
to grunt and cough and ready for the man
who cleans the glass because he knows all tricks
of squeegees and detergents. That’s my plan
for Saturday, too early to be fun,
but this is the disruption to end all –
I’ve weathered nine full months to have this done,
but now that we’re revolving into fall,
I’m ready to be cozy and alone.
I’m eager for long nights. An early storm
won’t bother me, and mud won’t make me moan;
I’ve flame and comforters to keep me warm.

Come, rid my window glass of soot and grime.
I’ll host and pay for labor, one last time.