Rolling through uncertainty with a whistle
(A.K.A. The best support crew in the universe.)
Buckle up for another installment of “What the heck are those two up to now?” — because life just keeps throwing plot twists our way.
Episode: “The Return to the Main House (and the Cat Uprising)”
So picture this: friends of ours ask if the little house is free for their parents’ visit. We say “maybe…” then realize it means we’d finally have to move back into the main house. You know, the one haunted by the ghost of Tenants Past — mostly in the form of dirt, weird smells, and psychic trauma.
I’ve been avoiding it like it’s cursed. Wimbledon (our cat) on the other hand? The second I fixed his cat door, he strutted in like he owned the place. (Spoiler: he believes he does.) He hasn’t looked back. He’s done with our tiny funky cottage — he's a three-bedroom guy now.
Meanwhile, James and Wimbledon were already bonding in the big house. I think they formed a secret alliance without informing me.
So, we said yes to the guests and decided to move. Technically, it wasn’t a big move — we don’t own that much stuff — but emotionally? Let’s just say I had a moment (or twelve). I realized my version of “clean enough” is apparently a high-level spiritual standard. Who knew?
I dove into scrubbing, clearing, smudging, reclaiming. Honestly? It was kind of fun. Especially imagining the joy our friends' grandkids would feel being close to their grandparents. (Grandparent time = pure gold.)
Of course, this all happened while the main house was still a disaster zone. I tackled one room at a time: first the kitchen, then the bathroom. Porch is next, because… sunlight. Priorities.
Meanwhile, in the background: the existential dread of housing insecurity!
Yep. We still don’t know if we get to stay here. That “what-if” is a pesky mosquito buzzing in the back of my brain. But instead of spiraling, I’ve decided to spend energy (not money) to make the house feel like ours. It’s kind of like optimistic nesting with a dash of rebellion but also hope.
Wimbledon, however, is NOT pleased with my presence. He gave me the look — “Are you staying? Really? Well then, I’m out.” He literally leaves when I enter. Total diva. But I love that fuzzy snob. And James and I? We’re just happy to be in the big house again. It feels good.
Coby and I are preparing to host our traditional Mother’s Day gathering. It’s our version of a spring birthday celebration-slash-love-fest. It’s keeping me grounded and joyful — and slightly manic in the “do I have enough folding chairs?” kind of way.
Health & Wheels Report
We’ve been biking to doctor appointments like the wellness warriors we are. Cardiologist gave James a thumbs-up. The real highlight? His doctor in Point Reyes came out to test-ride his trike. (She’s got good taste!)
Still need a second Bosch battery for longer rides. James whistles when he rides — that’s how I know he’s okay. ๐งกBut — not all sunshine. Lately, we’ve had a few scary dips. James sometimes wakes up with zero energy, aches, and the unsettling sense that something’s just off. Blood pressure's unpredictable, and even when it’s not super low, he feels faint and wiped out.
Doctors say: compression socks. James says: “Not in this heat, and not looking like Dorky Dude 2025.” Fair.
Oddly, these crashes don’t happen when we go for longer rides (15–20 miles). So guess what? Doctor’s orders: more adventure!
Other small drama: mattress now on floor = not ideal.
James gets up to pee 5x a night (thank you, aging body), and getting up from floor level makes it a groan-worthy Olympic event. We need a bed frame. Or a forklift. Stay tuned.
So that’s us right now:
๐ซ Slowly reclaiming our home
๐ฒ Riding toward health
๐ฑ Being passive-aggressively judged by a cat
๐ Still grateful to all of you, every single day
This community gives us wind in our sails and strength in our legs (and, frankly, hope in our hearts). Help us gear up for the next chapter — including that second battery — and more beautiful miles with James in the saddle.
Thank you for being with us. You truly make this world bigger, brighter, and better.
With love & pedal power,
James and Margit
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