How to Do It All : pt. 1

The Moon is a lady. Her face, slipping through veils of wisp-tailed clouds. It was as it was meant to be. Her, in her fullness. Me, arched back in bed. The cool swell of her light, right where I might best spy, lying there comfortably in my tangle of blankets.

I always, when I plan magic like this, assume that the right ritual will somehow spill from head. I trust The Universe. We have this thing, you know. What I need will come to me. So that night, under Her full roundness, I found myself lying in bed, whispering a love spell… can you believe it?! I hardly can myself.

***

I am a handy lady, let’s just say. So when the sheetrock bathroom ceiling began to crumble and fall down, I did not take the advice of friends (“Here’s the number of a guy I know...”), but instead went to the home improvement store. I always, when I plan magic like this, assume the solution will just fall into my lap. So I milled about the aisles for a bit when I came upon the 1′x1′ ceiling tiles. Ah ha! This has got to be a billion times easier than hanging drywall overhead! I have installed tongue and groove flooring before, so the concept was similar. I was sassy with satisfaction of my brilliance. Who needs a guy!? I can do it all. 

Fast forward to Saturday. I’ve got a few of those babies hanging on the ceiling. It looks… like it’s all coming together. I take a break and drink coffee. I think, why does anyone need anyone? I snap a picture of my progress, so I can file it away in my scrapbook for later. I am a goddess. After this, I’m planning to bake a loaf of bread, change the oil in my car and crochet a fucking doily.

Halfway through my project the ceiling gets… wonky, let’s just say. I realize I should have made sure I was working on a level surface. I was unprepared for how crooked the corners of the room were. I start to wonder if it’s actually a two-person job, holding the end pieces up, which seem hell-bent on pulling all my work down. Everything, suddenly, is getting really metaphorical.

And that’s of course when it hits me. A message from The Universe. A peek into my future. And it’s super inconvenient because I can’t leave to go write it down, I have to hold these damn tiles up till the glue cures. So I’m standing on this ladder. In my bathroom. Holding up the ceiling. My kids are fighting over Goldfish crackers in the other room. And I’m having a stroke of brilliance.

Along with this, though, a growing awareness that my ceiling project is going to fail. For whatever reason, the corners are now starting to sag. I hear the glue creaking and moaning. I don’t have enough arms to save the work. I whisper a little prayer, release my grip, step down off the ladder and cover my neck as the ceiling falls down on me.

Sometimes all you can do is all you can do.

***

After I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom and showered, I told the kids we were going to a restaurant for dinner. This is a treat, if only because it can be harrowing to take both my wee babes to dinner by myself. Mama needs a margarita was encoded in “How about Mexican?” They were thrilled by the idea, so we went.

After a lovely dinner, which they both ate like people even, the waitress stopped at my table to compliment me on how beautiful and well behaved my kids were (they really were inordinately good). “You’re so blessed. SO BLESSED.” She repeated as if I needed the emphasis.

We all walked hand in hand to the car. The Universe was prodding me again. A purpose tucked away in mind, the blessings of two small hands in my hands. I oriented myself, searching for the Moon in the night. Give me the love I need, I implored her full face a week ago. There she was, a waning grin in the sky.

Tomorrow I’ll call a guy about the ceiling.