Couldn't get a photo because it was spitting rain, (dry as a desert over on this side of town, soggy as a cornflake over there,) but there was unexpected progress on the house, today.
The forms had come off the footings, the corrugated drainage pipe had been run around the perimeter and the sump pump pipe had been run under the footing. I even ventured down into the hole and walked, very very lightly and just a couple of steps since they're likely still curing, on one of the footings.
And I know some of my Monkees friends are wondering... the answer is Yes. As I took those ginger steps on the very first part of my house to be ressurrected, I did sing that line from one of my very favorite Michael Nesmith lyrics very, very quietly to myself so as not to horrify the neighbors with the awfulness of my singing
"...and where my foot steps down is where it's home."
It is partly because of that line that I had to walk on it and it's partly because of the part of me that had to walk on it that I have always been so in love with that line and the whole of that lyric. I'll probably be humming The Crippled Lion to myself all day. What a beautifully appropriate and exquisitely delicious bowl of aural soup to feed my mending post-fire soul.
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