Emily Evans delivers a history lesson to a Time writer. More embarrassing for the Time writer? She’s from Nashville, herself.
Daily Archives: May 9, 2010
In Which I am Honest
I’m down. Everything that is still wrong around the yard is expensive. I’m just going to say, up front, that this is the drawback to blogging during a disaster. People have real problems, but I’m still going to complain about my crap.
So, yes, everything that is still wrong is expensive. I need more good soil to fill up the beds that emptied out during the flood. There’s a bigger hole in my front yard (though I am hoping TDOT will come put their rocks back, at least, but I’m not bothering them about that for a couple weeks).
And I thought we could cold patch the driveway, but holy shit. There’s no way. The hole is so big and we’d need so many bags and…
Well, the truth is I just don’t know. At some point, you have to admit to yourself that you don’t know how to do something. And I think we could cold patch a small hole and figure it out as we go. But to repair a part of the driveway that is gone? I just don’t think we know enough how to do that.
So, we’re going to have to call someone in.
And now my parents have this idea that we should get a FEMA loan and get the whole driveway redone.
And they have been calling me repeatedly to nag me about it. And it’s not that I’m not grateful for free advice, but I don’t want another god damn loan. I mean, how does a loan help? I can’t afford another monthly expense, no matter how small, while the Butcher is out of work.
I don’t know. I have to tell you, even complaining about it is not really helping.
I guess, no matter what, I’m going to have to get an estimate and see what the deal is.
I tried to stay off the internet today and spent it just trying to put the yard back together. I’ve given up on sunflowers in the way back. Instead, I put the sunflowers I had left in the perennial bed. One of our friends had left-over marigold seeds, so we reseeded where we had previously seeded for marigolds. I weeded a lot.
And everywhere I looked, there was dirt missing. Big gaping holes, sometimes in beds, sometimes just in the yard. And, I have to tell you, it’s weird, but it’s that missing dirt that made my head spin. I can’t really explain it. Lots of shit happened, and lots worse happened to other people, but there’s something about big chunks of your yard missing that just makes you feel like no matter what you do, you could lose this all, again and again, if that’s your Fate.