Page 2 of Together in Harmony
I haven’t told Sheila just how decrepit the cabin is.
“It just needed a little spit and polish,” I’d said.
In between spitting and polishing the cabin, I’ve also had to earn money. There is no internet at the cabin, so I drive into town and download my assignments (from the Starbucks free wifi), then come home and spend a few days sorting thousands of survey results into little boxes on a spreadsheet. Then I go back into town, email the results, pick up the next assignment, and maybe some more duct tape. Rinse, repeat.
I’ve educated myself on how to use a wood burner. The cabin has electricity—thank Benjamin Franklin—and it heats a very small tank of water. I’ve also learned the art of rapid showering.
Pioneer life-lite.
Einstein has been on the fence about it all. He’s not any more affectionate, but he doesn’t actively swipe at me these days, which is progress. I’ve been listening to a podcast about anti-social cats. I’m supposed to spend a lot of time talking to him, letting him know we are litter-mates.
He’s not buying it.
Einstein spends most of his time sitting on top of the fridge, watching mice run around the edges of the kitchen. Einstein is not a mouser. The mice to human/cat ratio at the cabin is about 20-1. I haven’t cracked the Einstein code, but there are several more episodes of ‘Cats with Claws’ to listen to yet.
All in all, I’m exhausted, but cabin life is working. I have somewhere to live, no one here has a clue who I am, and I am earning enough money to get by.
Not too shabby.
And—today is my birthday. Twenty-three.
I worked double yesterday, so I could have a whole day with zero spreadsheet filling. Today I will ignore the mice and just relax all day. I have a book, a festive drink, snacks and a blanket. I’ve set myself up in the meadow next to the cabin. Sun is streaming down, and life feels pretty good right now.
A dragonfly zooms by, and I make a mental note about working on a dragonfly poem. Something about a dragon and a fly having a baby, and it’s a dragonfly?
Though I fill in spreadsheets during the day, in the evenings I write poems for my blog. Being alone in the cabin has totally unleashed my creativity.
Thanks Sheila and Patsy.
They’d been absent for most of my life, but now we finally know each other, I have a real family for the first time.
“Darling, I’m not sure you are quite ready for cabin-life,” Sheila had said. We’d been living together for a while, so she has a pretty good idea of my strengths and weaknesses.
“I’ll figure it out,” I told her, kissing her cheek gently.
“Of course you will, it’s just…”
Just that I had spent my entire life in either an empty mansion, with a revolving door of nannies. Or in expensive hotel rooms watching coke-fueled orgies.
Neither had really set me up to be independent, but I was learning.
Sheila and Patsy’s cabin is down a long track in the middle of central Oregon. It’s surrounded by a high desert landscape; miles of sagebrush, rocky outcrops, and the odd meadow.
I pick up my mason jar and take another sip of warm cocktail. Eating a few more chips, I turn the page in my book and let the warmth bake into my bones. The nylon fabric of my bikini halter pulls the hair at the back of my neck.
Should I?
I’m not a topless type of person, but…it is my birthday after all, so what better time to rock a birthday suit?
Brave Harmony, remember.
I undo the knot and pull off my polka-dot polyester top, then lay back with my book.
The next hour is sunshine, sunchips and tequila sunrise (well tequila and orange juice anyway). The combo must put me to sleep for a while, because when I open my eyes again, the shadows have lengthened.
Oof, the tequila combined with the heat is making my head swim. I should have worn a hat. Also have put on sunscreen. My boobs are starting to prickle.
I look and yep, definitely some very pink boobies. Time to go.
