It's kind of odd to me how after being at the con, I was really pretty okay with being alone. There was this sense of accomplishment that I think is something that made me feel worth more, and that whole self-worth thing is kind of intimately tied in with the feelings of loneliness and so on.
I suppose it shouldn't be odd, but I never really made the connection.
I've hit a kind of stride now, I think. Kind of hard to tell, but I'm kind of rarin' to go on the front porch cement work. I stopped by Home Depot last night, and they actually had pallets of concrete block that came with the full-header blocks so I can do the tight corners. I was tempted-- they also have 12-inch thick block as well as the standard 8-inch-- but the 8-inch is just fine for what I need. I'm already overbuilding. And they deliver and offload the block. I'd still need to move it around to the front of the house, but that can be done a few blocks at a time (I have a cart).
I'm doing dry stacking with a fiber-cement overlay, then filling the voids with rebar and concrete. It's a lot like pouring a solid concrte wall as far as strength, but instead of trying to set up forms, the block itself becomes the form, and also an integral part of the wall. The dry-stacking is just to make it easier for one person to do. And it ends up looking like stucco rather than a block wall.
Because I am one person. I don't have the luxury of a partner to do all of this with.
I do have friends that are willing to help, but my schedule is primarily working evenings after work and weekends when the weather is decent. Small bits and pieces. Hard to schedule. But with just me, I can remain pretty flexible, and not have to worry about date night, or activities that were scheduled without my knowledge, or not paying enough attention to her because I'm always working on the stupid house.
The downside is that I don't get to share thr responsibilities with anyone else, and after I've been moving concrete all day, I still have to cook, clean, feed the pets, walk the dog, and the general stuff of life. It's exhausting.
Maybe I should consider getting a housekeeper. Not like I can really afford one. And realistically, I need to get my life to a manageable point, not look for ways around it. But the idea is a nice one.
And I probably shouldn't date until after the bathroom looks like something other than an art deco acid trip that was taken over by Nyarlathotep. Hot babes seem to like non-disgusting bathrooms. That of course assumes that I would be bringing dates to my house and letting them use the bathroom instead of just burying them in the basement like usual.