My connection to Hobbs is insular, consisting of memories and the knowledge that I am at the site of my history. I sometimes wonder why I'm still here. It might be because I feel like the memory keeper of those who have come before and after me, and because I feel some sort of obligation to be where my family expects me to be, here in Hobbs. Or maybe it's because I got a sweet deal on the house and I would have never had the opportunity to own my own home, otherwise.
Speaking of the house, I went to paint a room yesterday, and uncovered a hornet's nest. Well, actually, many, many dirtdobber's nests, which seem to be all that is holding the place together. I decided to pull off some trim, and that led to me knocking a hole in the sheetrock, which led to me realizing that in some spots there's no sheetrock beneath the many layers of paint, and behind that no insulation but many of the aforementioned dirty, larva-filled nests. Then I decided to demo a little and now I know that I need a new house. The man who takes care of these things (the husband) is evaluating the situation, which is probably not so dire. You should see what he made happen when I decided to pull up the living room carpet. He's a magician with the hammer and nail.
I'm off to paint the kitchen cabinets, because I'm hell-bent on painting something. I'm trying real hard not to pull a thread. Just paint. But I did notice a hole in the baseboard under the sink...
Hey Leslie, Where's the house? We here in Norway need a little explanation of when, where and why. The last we actually heard of you, you were somewhere down around Ballinger. Is this the same place you've been before, if not, where? If you really need to find something else to complain about, come up and visit us here in the icebox of Europe - we need some Hobbs temperaturer! Joe
ReplyDeleteWell, Joe, I couldn't hack being in Ballinger, it was too far from work and my cellar and, well, Hobbs. I'm back in residence at the same place as before, the house my folks brought me to after I was born. My Dad grew up out here, too, when my grandparents had a farm on the surrounding property. No complaints here! It's 70 today!
ReplyDeleteWe bought this place we live at now near Canton about three years ago. But there is something about where you were raised that is undefinable.
ReplyDeleteI was raised in Seymour and the air there even smells like home. You know what I mean?
Yes, and the light has a certain slant. I know what you mean. Funny, I thought Sunday smelled like old times, haha!
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