2014 tested my patience. That’s the short story.
The long story is, I had to come to terms with the worst parts of pet ownership. The vet costs, the sleep loss, the panic, the confusion, the sudden empty home, the lack of energy.
The mind-numbing, stomachache-inducing, crippling anxiety.
I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to deal with the loss of a critter in my life. It feels irrational to still be so sad. But there’s nothing rational about death — other than it being the logical end of the life cycle, of course.
My cat Bizzi was, somewhat embarrassingly, the light of my life. It seems silly to put that in writing, but she was my first real pet. We had family pets (even when Dad didn’t want them but they’d somehow end up in the house…), and I’ve always grown too attached to animals, but Biz was the apple of my eye from the minute I laid eyes on her. That cat was going to be my little buddy.
It’s gotten easier.
But the quiet is still deafening.
The long story is, I didn’t travel very far. When I did, I got homesick — a rare and unwelcome feeling.
But people back home were getting sick, or having babies, or growing older. And I was missing it.
The long story is, I made plans, and I plodded through the boring steps of wish fulfillment. I saved my $5 here and $5 there. I looked at houses. My god, did I look at houses. And I found one. And I bought it. And I tore it apart and rebuilt it.
And in the process, I tore down some of the fundamentals of who I think I am. (I also discovered that I can be a real pain in the ass when things aren’t going my way.) I settled into my discomfort with commitment, and I fell so in love with the result.
But man, was it hard.
The long story is, 2014 was the year I truly realized that this is where I’m meant to be.
*Title inspired by Band of Horses (again), “Evening Kitchen,” a sad, pretty song about change and destruction and goodbye. In the very literal sense, my kitchen is my favorite part of our new house, especially in the evening when the sun peeks through the window.