SoCS: once upon a time

Once upon a time there was a young girl who met her Prince and knew she was going to live happily ever after. All she wanted to do was have children, live in ‘the country’ (she was an urban girl) grown her own food and live a spiritual life. That was so simple. All you need is a roof over your head and food to eat. That was ‘she’. I’m hardly that person anymore.

We couldn’t afford property but we could afford a run-down cottage on 2 1/2 acres on the Grand River. We worked in factories getting overtime when possible and paid off our mortgage in 11 years. His beekeeping and trees became a small business while he still worked at his NC machining jobs on night shifts. I started the farmers market and started making products from beeswax.

Our original plan had been to renovate this cottage to a year-round home and sell it to buy bigger property. But as we got into our 50’s I could see the place was never going to get finished being renovated. My plan was to fix up the house, build up the business then when we were ready to retire sell the whole thing out; lock, stock and barrel. Good plan, eh?

That didn’t happen. What was trauma at the time turned out to be the best thing that ever happened: he threw me out. He threw me out because I could no longer work hard enough. I was menopausal, mentally beaten down to mush, and he was right: I could no longer work hard enough. I couldn’t be good enough. He said “pack your bags. I’m driving you to your sister’s and dropping you off”. And that’s what he did.

That was 15 years ago. And I can honestly say that he did me a huge favor! What was once the worst thing that ever happened turned out to be the best thing. My only regret is sticking it out for so long because he didn’t hit me. That’s how low my bar was!: that he didn’t hit me! But standing up to him was going to go there because I couldn’t be obedient enough.

He chose to mortgage our home and buy me out rather than go to counselling. I bought this place, outright: paid for. But I still needed to earn money.

He called me the other day. We keep in touch. He hasn’t had plumbing for about 5 years now because he “can’t be bothered” to get the line fixed. I suspect there is a hoarding situation, knowing him. He maxed out his credit line last summer spending thousands of dollars and paying only the minimum amount. Now interest rates have gone up considerably. His truck needs fixing. He’s still doing the farmers markets and talking about how hard it is as he’s getting older but he needs the money.

He called because he “has work for me on the internet”. He won’t have internet or a cell phone. The composting toilet is having an infestation of fruit flies and he can’t get Vapona strips anymore so “look for something”. He also wanted the dates of Mercury in retrograde for the next 2 years.

I feel bad for him. I think of the life we could be having but that’s what he chooses. This is who he is.

And me? I am so selfish. I work on my happiness full time. So for now. . . I’m living happily ever after!

Your prompt for #JusJoJan the 14th and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “once upon a time.” Start your post with “Once upon a time,” then write whatever comes to you, whether it be fact or fiction. 

Daily Prompt; Smoke

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”  This is not true with wood stoves. Where there’s smoke, there’s a fire that won’t ignite. If you don’t have a bellows, you’ll be huffing and puffing until you get dizzy.

In the last decade or so they have been using newspapers with fire retardants. Great for slowing down house fires but so frustrating for wood burners. The paper smolders while you pump away on the bellows saying “c’mon, c’mon, you #*@….”

I do have a propane furnace and love it. My ex-husband would only have wood heat so having a furnace and a programmable thermostat is a luxury for me that others take for granted. Being able to get up in the morning and just ‘turn on the heat’ is fantastic! The whole house heated up in such a short time…… WOW! I program it to be on when I come home from work because I found coming home to a warm house makes me happy; coming home to a cold house is depressing.

When it reaches 22C, it shuts off and I start a fire. If I start it while the furnace is on, the air pressure pulls smoke out of the stove, pouring into the house.  Even shutting the stove doors doesn’t work; smoke shoots out of the little draft holes. Then I have to open all the windows and doors losing the expensive propane heat. Only did that a couple of times before I caught on.

Just heating with propane would be so expensive I would have to work full-time just to heat my house. Besides, having lived with wood heat most of my life it would be very hard to give it up. I love everything about it; buying it, stacking it, burning it…. and I love being very, very warm. Not shivering in heavy sweaters all winter.

When a fire is burning properly, there shouldn’t be much smoke. That way it is combusting most of the gasses. When it’s not burning, it smolders and smokes. Then you have to poke and blow it.

Wow, is this ever boring. Maybe I should have written about smoking pot. About how tired I get of everyone happily holding their wine glasses and getting tight while smoking pot still makes you a pariah, a degenerate. I find drunkenness neither fun nor funny. There is a HUGE double standard when it comes to alcohol vs. marijuana. I hope it gets better when it’s legal next year.


But for now, I didn’t say that.