I'll Have Cheese With My Whine

I don’t like change.  It’s hard for me.  It’s stressful for me.  I am a creature of habit.  My alarm goes off at the same time every morning and I lie in bed and pet my two kitties for exactly two minutes before I get up.  I have, on occasion, messed up and petted them for three minutes, but that rarely occurs.  I am a person who eats the same thing for breakfast every day.  I leave for work at the same time every day (give or take five minutes).  I drive to work the same way every day.  I do my laundry on the same day every week.  I water my plants on the same day every week (if I remember).  Get the picture?  Dean, on the other hand, loves change and can’t stand to do or eat or see or … whatever … the same thing over and over and over.  He thrives on change.  He requires change.  Even though I know change is good for me and a necessary evil part of life, and I know I have in the past and will in the future survive it – I fear it.

I won’t go so far as to say change is torture for me, but adjusting to any kind of change is a challenge.  It takes me a long time to wrap my head around what’s either just happened or is going to happen, and while my brain is processing and I’m trying to figure out how to accept whatever change I’m up against, I worry.  And when I’m worried I tend to clam up.  Even though Dean thrives on change, on occasion, change IS torture for him.

What’s wrong? (Something’s going on….)

 Nothing.

Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you? (I must have pissed her off somehow)

 No.

You need to tell me what’s going on.  (I’m getting cranky.)

 I’m fine.

We need to talk.  You need to talk to me.  (If I had hair I’d pull it out now.)

 It’s just the January blahs. Don’t worry.  Really.

There's a look, some head-shaking, some grumbling, some mumbling ....  

Unfortunately for the man, there’s been a fair amount of change happening in our lives over the past few months, not the least of which was our decision to buy the home in Sheridan.  Even though I chose to make that change I worry.  I worry we made a mistake.  I worry we won’t really like the house once we’re actually living there.  I worry we won’t meet people or make a friend. 

On a bad day, which always seem to be when it’s cloudy, the accept the change and go with it you idiot, lobe of my brain doesn’t function and I spend way too much time staring into space, focused on the tankless water heater that needs to be replaced, and the portion of wallboard in the bathroom I discovered needs to be replaced, and the ice maker that needs to be replaced because I was an idiot, and the boxelder bugs that come to life when it gets above 50, and how it’s been six months and we still haven’t been able to move furniture up.  And then, only today, being told the pipeline in our right-of-way will be replaced in ten weeks which may “cause a bit of a mess until we can clean it up.”

On better days, which seem tied to sunny days, I look forward to sitting on the deck with a glass of wine listening to the creek, or in front of the wood stove with a book.  I think about how close cross country skiing and hiking will be.  I picture our furniture finally being moved in to a warm and cozy house.  

And I think about the big hugs we get when we come up for a weekend and I remember why we are making this change.

I know I will eventually quit torturing myself with worry and embrace it.  Dean can only hope anyway. 

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I'll Have Cheese With My Whine