I have a a bit of a confession to make. I'm on edge, like really on edge. All these dramatic little setbacks here at Holtwood House in just the last month- namely the gas leak and the electrical fire- have had my stomach in knots, considering all the "what if" scenarios had we not been quick on our feet to address them. I find myself passing through the hallway or rounding the corner into the kitchen, sure that I smell gas or a fire breaking out. I've been scared to fully use the kitchen and plug in any appliance to powered outlets in areas that were no where near our wall fire. As someone who loves to cook, it's a little tortuous to fear the one room in the house I felt the most at home in. Trust me, I know things could have been so much worse and that we were oh so lucky. But I think seeing actual flames in my kitchen was shocking enough to send me over the edge.
Perhaps it's all because things remain unresolved following our fire last weekend. We are still anxiously waiting on our Electrician's visit on Saturday afternoon. We have no garbage disposal, putrid water we can't drain and we're not entirely sure our new dishwasher won't need replacing. The smell of burned electrical still hovers among the mess under the sink.
A similar bout of anxiety happened last year when we had a bat fly in late one balmy evening and take over our house. Can you imagine walking half asleep down a dimly lit hallway to encounter a bat flying directly towards you? Trust. It happened. For weeks I anticipated a bat coming towards me every time I stepped foot in that hallway.
All of this anxiety has worn me down. It's worn me down enough to say I'm taking my kitchen back and with it my life as I knew it. Perhaps you dear reader might not have reacted the way I have to these actually in the grand scheme of things pretty uneventful events. I envy your ability to let things roll. But I'm a worry wart. Always have been. Despite some real work on the matter, I think it's just part of my fabric. I'm always waiting for the rug to get ripped out from under me. It's really happened- several times.
One thing I've learned about that rug getting pulled out from under me is that life is freakin short. We need to make the most of everyday and I refuse to worry my life away. Fridays were meant for fearlessness and the way I see it, Friday the 13th is a perfect opportunity to look fear in the eye and say- you are not going to win.
One of the best parts of any weekend around here is my time spent in the kitchen. So I'm gonna put on those gloves, clean up this latest mess and reclaim my kitchen. Come Sunday morning, I'm planning on firing up (no pun intended) the ice cream machine and that shiny new oven to whip up a few of those recipes I've been dog-earing. I love to cook, I love to eat and I love to entertain friends from our kitchen. I plan to do all of that before I see you back here Monday morning. Hold me to it, will you?