New Traditions

This is gonna be a quick one, I think. Somehow, in spite of the marathon I’ve just finished, I don’t have a ton of exciting things to say. I think? Probably. Let’s find out.

I almost shot my eye out. It was last Monday. I had spent all weekend finishing the flooring itself. I had moved onto trim work. I was trying to get the final bit of quarter round installed behind the desk. Crawling on hands and knees, ducking under the cables, I went to shoot yet another brad nail in the quarter to hold it in place. Somehow, this time, the nail didn’t penetrate the trim. Instead it got turned upward by found face of the stuff, ricocheted off the brick wall, and popped me in the eye. The nail. In the eye. From a nail gun.

FROM A NAIL GUN.

I didn’t know what happened at first. I was only aware that there was a loud noise and something had hit my eye. I actually thought, in the split second after it happened, that the trim had exploded and a piece had hit me in the face, but looking down at the trim I found it was still intact, with a vertical gouge and no nail to be found. I panicked a little. Had I just shot myself in the eye with a nail gun? Could i still see? I ran up to the bathroom and tried inspecting it. My eye was definitely red, uncomfortable, a little puffy, but no obvious damage. No nail sticking out of it. No blood. Thinking back to the time a retina specialist warned me that I’m susceptible to detached retinas, and getting hit in the eye might cause one, I immediately called the eye doctor to try and be seen. They got me in and couldn’t find anything catastrophic. Just irritated and probably sore for a few days. He recommended ice.

I found the nail later. It was bent into a semicircle, presumably from the force of the deflection, and I can only assume that the rounded part was what made contact with me. There was a small knot on my eyebrow for a few days. Other than that, I seem to be okay. I was able to finish the trim, with two pairs of safety goggles and taking cover like a bomb was about to go off every time I had to fire another nail. But I got it done.

Fucking yikes.

I was up until about 1am working every night last week, but I got everything finished and furniture moved back into place in time for the cleaning ladies to show up on Thursday. 4 Brazilian ladies working 3 hours to deep clean the upstairs two floors. Place looked immaculate. I finished putting up and decorating my real tree, and finished with the xmas lights on the front of the house. I even made it out to an uncle’s on Friday evening with the subset of people that were in town already for the event.

Then, Saturday, the event itself went really well. About as well as I could have possibly hoped for. Fires with the wood I had picked up in the fireplace next to the tree and the fire pit out back for people who wanted to relax on the patio. The theater was humming with xmas movies for kids. There was room enough for everyone. The six folding chairs I bought were all used. We had just enough dinnerware, glassware, and silverware for the meal after I went out and bought double what I had previously. It felt like all these things I had anticipated and prepared for while worrying that I was going overboard were all actually practical and put to use. Not overboard, just prepared.

People seemed to really enjoy it. There were enough compliments coming about the house that I got the impression someone had coached it, but it was still nice to have my years of hard work on the place recognized and appreciated. Everyone was socializing and laughing and drinking, then the italian food dinner was a hit, presents came out from under the tree, and the 15ish people remaining hung out in the newly renovated music room taking turns in VR and laughing and cheering each other on. It was a lot of fun. At an aunt’s request, I had even prepared my Quest 2 headset with the VR photography of Grandma’s house I had put together right after she died and before they sold the place. I had done it feeling like it needed to be captured, and there were plenty of tears as people teleported around the house they grew up in after having not seen it for a couple years.

It was really nice. Really really nice. I felt honored to be able to host my old favorite tradition in a new form, and I’m so glad it wasn’t a bust for people. No idea who will be hosting next year, if it’ll be here or elsewhere, but I can always know I did it once and contributed. That feels good.

And then I crashed. Hard.

Nut decided she wanted to hang longer than Hollywood and family were going to, so we decided she could crash on the Music Room couch that night and ride back home with Mom the following day. Shorty was already crashing in the guest room for a couple nights this week. So I got everyone organized and situated, made sure all the fires were out and lights were off, and then I was out practically before I hit the pillow. I woke up Sunday morning with my lights still on - apparently I hadn’t even managed to turn them off before I faded out. It was that type of crash.

Recovering slowly. Took a couple naps yesterday. Signed up for my first gym classes in 3 weeks starting this evening, which is going to suck but I’m happy to be ripping that band-aid off and getting back on track with life proper. Shorty is here another couple nights, so it won’t be 100% normal but far more mellow. And I think she’s going to return on Xmas day proper, along with potentially Bruddah and maybe Miss Meg, for a meal around the tree before she makes the drive back home and we REALLY get back to normal. I’m not expecting a ton from myself this week. I pushed plenty hard for plenty long to get through yesterday. Now it’s time to take care of myself again.

Will hopefully be updating with other shizz going on before too long. Not just about floors. Because, for the first time in almost two months, life will be about more than floors again. Thank goodness.

Though, if I’m honest, I think this might have been more a blessing that I realize. Friday was the one year anniversary of sitting outside that terrible ER in the cold saying my goodbyes to a barely-conscious Vally. I hardly even had time to recognize it with all the scrambling I was doing. I got asked about her and my tattoos at the family pre-gathering Friday, and I definitely broke down for a minute when I realized it had been a year, but that was it. All I had time for. And I think that’s OK. I’m not going to let myself feel bad for not creating some long facebook post about it, or spending the day sobbing over it. I spent the majority of the year sobbing over it, and processing it, and then having her inked onto me for it. I’m not obliged to be sad anymore. I am sad about it, still more often than I’d have hoped, but not as a scheduled obligation. Just when it hits me. I’m thankful that I was kept so busy this weekend that I wasn’t tempted towards obligatory scheduled despair.

Glad you’re with me again, little wolf. Thanks for the support these last two months. Even if it’s just in the ink reminding me of the support you always gave me, it’s definitely helped me push through all the late nights working.

On to the next challenge.

-M