Maine and Independence!

Maine and independence seem to go together since Maine and Vermont are the essence of the New England style, which is mainly self-sufficiency.  I know this started out as a political blog but lately it's more about me and cooping in a world without a man to do the hard stuff..  I'm sorry to admit that I never fully realized how much Miguel did to make my life easy.  I was the bread winner in the family but he was everything else, and I mean everything.  He shopped, cooked (wonderfully), drove, took care of all the household issues--fixing leaky toilets, sanding floors, and just about everything else that needs to be done in old houses.  Most important as I'm a terrible worrier, he hid (as much as he could) all the things that would go wrong in the house and fixed them quietly: flooded basements in particular.

Yesterday, after much thinking, I decided not to put the house in Maine for sale again (my last realtor went out of business and neglected to let me know).  It was the last house Miguel and I purchased together and even though it was here in Columbia Falls that he first realized he was seriously ill, it was also here that he did some wonderful paintings and did so much to make our lives  comfortable.  How can  I sell something that so much a part of us?  That's a rhetorical question, as I know I can't.  And it's also the place where I finally came to terms with my own independence.  In the last week I've had to do all the things that Miguel did:  driving, drying and cleaning a flooded basement, carrying firewood, and getting a fire going in the wood stove.  Not remarkable for many women but remarkable for this one who has lived in Manhattan for some forty years., and  would often call the superintendent to change a light bulb.

I can do it!  I've decided to spend my summers here and rent the apartment in New York.  I've been alone now for a week in a very large house full of strange noises, and I know I'm perfectly safe.  Sounds silly, particularly to those who are never nervous over the small stuff, but for me it's a great awakening: previously a feminist in name only, but I hope in the future in action as well. I can even reverse now without hitting a telephone pole.  Who would have thought? 

As a postscript, the everything-that-can-go-wrong saga continues.  I topped off the oil tank in January 2009, and came back for two weeks in June 2009 and one weekend in September 2009.  I've been here for less than a week, and when I checked the gauge it indicates that the tank is empty.  How is this possible?  The last time I filled it, it cost over $500.  Sigh!