Always A Day Away

If nothing else, the flowers seem to appreciate my efforts.

I feel like life consists of a whole lot of waiting these days. That’s probably true in general for lots of people, with future dates and appointments set, but these days I’m having a horrible time living in the moment. So I wait and wait and wait, and it’s not good waiting, like for Santa Claus. It’s grinding, excruciating waiting: at home, at work, on people and health and things. And, of course, the weather.

The weather actually feels exemplary in this instance. Not that it it is exemplary weather: it is stinking hot, and often too still, and the rain never arrives. I realized a couple days ago that what I should have done all summer is take screen shots of weekly extended forecasts. No matter what day I looked, it showed several days of no rain, but the following week, rain every single day — until we reached that week and confronted the same prediction: no rain this week, but wait ’til next.

I have dumped unconscionable gallon after unconscionable gallon of water on our “lawn,” and mere hours later it looks so desiccated it’s as though we’re in a mega-drought. Somehow the local newspaper reports our drought is easing, and a mere 12 miles east of Gunnison my sister Tia was videoing a raging downpour when she realized the hill directly behind her house was sliding. All appears to be well: a lot of dirt washed away, even exposing the top of their septic tank, but the house is intact and her husband and brother-in-law, who were already planning to install a retaining wall the very next day, spent a day moving mud around to better secure the house in the event of a repeat event.

But here where I am the rain never really arrives, and so I wait. I watch my weather website make empty promise upon empty promise, and I wait. The probability today is for 80 percent chance of rain, from 1 p.m. until midnight. So what am I doing right now? Pouring gallons of water through sprinklers, because I grow weary of waiting.

I had to turn to the internet for shopping purposes, which I really can’t stand. A fierce proponent of shopping locally, I feel I am betraying my community , even though — at least in theory — most of these online companies are now remitting sales tax to every place their shoppers originate.

I needed jeans. That shouldn’t be a big deal in what not so long ago was a town built on cattle, right? But it turned out it was a big deal, an ordeal, in fact. I have worn Levi’s most of my life, and now they can’t be found anywhere in Gunnison. Gene Taylor’s, the local company that has carried them forever, lost the account when Levi’s pulled it away, as these giant companies are fond of doing to small businesses. When I went looking, Gene Taylor’s didn’t even have a denim alternative.

I have tried two different brands from Tractor Supply, both of which fit at the waist and nowhere else. I even looked at Walmart, where the jeans that said “Wrangler” came without that little watchfob pocket inside the right-hand pocket. Believe it or not, I have constant need of that pocket, so the internet it was — where I promptly ordered, all on my own, a waist size I haven’t seen in easily two if not three decades.

So I waited for the pants to arrive, handed them to Lynn who would be happening by a Target as part of a Medical Tour of Colorado, and tried again. Instead of just going to Gene Taylor’s, where it’s possible I would have grabbed the wrong size but would have been able to go back that day and exchange them, and getting a pair of pants I could wear the next day, I waited.

I also needed a belt. The company (Grip 6) tried to make me feel better about shopping online, sending it in a box that tells me to “keep it local,” by which they mean the entirety of the United States, where their belt is made. Not that much “making” had to go into the process: it’s a webbed strap with a flat piece of metal that does let me adjust on the fly (or above the fly, since my jeans have that) but which one seems to have to plan to loosen, so no waiting until an urgent minute to unbuckle.

Today, in mere hours, one extensive waiting period at long last comes to an end. I never thought I’d be so excited for a veterinarian appointment, but I’ve never had to schedule one out a month and a half, either.

Bear the dog arrived at our house in mid-June already in need of a dental cleaning. While I wanted to wait and let him get a bit settled in his new home, we were having trouble getting him to eat much and his breath was positively rancid. I had heard it might take a month to get in, so I called in early July — and got scheduled for Aug. 23.

But they also wanted to do a pre-exam, and it looks like he’s only had a couple vaccinations, so we also scheduled an appointment for Aug. 15, which is finally today. In this interval of waiting, however, Bear has become quite the eater. He also developed an on-going case of diarrhea, which was on my impatient list to discuss with the vet — only it seems to have at last cleared up as of four days ago.

I doubt it cleared up on its own: we tried a product called Pro-Pectalin (which I had to order online and wait for, and we ran out of our sample while waiting), and the one thing we didn’t give away from Ozzie’s medicine cabinet was a pro-biotic called Fortiflora. Fortified with these products, Bear’s life seems better, now that we’re at last going to the vet.

There’s a lot more waiting I’ve been doing, about which I am happy to pontificate, except that I apparently waited too long to start this post, which appears to have been two weeks in the making, and it is time to get moving on the rest of my day (although animals have been fed and medicated, let in and out, and out and in, I have been fed, clothes are in the dryer, and plants have been watered). I will thus post this and put an end to one aspect of our terrible waiting, except that we have to resume it tomorrow, wondering when I might post again.

We’ll all just have to wait, right?

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