The Relationship Shakedown

Have you ever quickly fallen in love, jumped into living together, and soon realized that your new love had some issues? 

You begin to notice neediness, unpredictable behavior, and red flags like going cold on you when you want to curl up on the couch and binge-watch a show, or making loud, weird noises during the night.

My first thought was, “No way. I’m not going to put up with this. What a mistake. Why do I make such impulsive decisions when it comes to love?”

I confess, I fell hard —this time for an 1870s house on Cape Cod.

I moved in early January, the darkest, coldest, bleakest time of the year. There’s no fooling around down here when the weather report warns of gale-force winds.

Those winds rattle the glass pocket doors and blow through the big windows and patio doors. The asthmatic furnaces rattle. They click on and off to blow heat into a house with little insulation.

“There’s no other place like this in town,” the realtor told me.

Was that code for, “You’re going to freeze your ass off, but you’ll do so in a beautiful, unique place?”

A quick real estate annulment is off the table. It would break me financially, which might be more painful than wearing layers of wool from head to toe and going to bed at 7 p.m. because it’s warm under a down duvet.

I want this relationship to work.

 I turn to Bob Vila of “This Old House” for advice and obsessively watch his YouTube videos. 

“If you can hold a cloth up to a window and the air moves it, that’s where to start,” Bob explains. He suggests using caulking cord to seal up window and door drafts.  Ok, then.

The first people I meet in town are the guys at the local hardware stores. I buy out all the caulking cord Eastman’s has and then go to Wood Lumber.

“Do you have any caulking cord?” I ask the young guys at the counter. “The popular brand name is Mortite.”

“Never heard of it. Let me ask my boss if he knows what you’re talking about.”

Yessiree, the boss knows exactly what I need.

He hands me six boxes of Mortite, and I wrap my arms around them.

“Oh my God, I am so happy that you have some Mortite,” I yelp like the madwoman that I am, stuffed into a red  Lands End Parka and heavy-weight wool leggings.  “This is my favorite product in the world!”

The young guys smirk.  I imagine they hope there’s more to happiness than caulking rope.

But the older guy? He knows that plugging drafts on a 10-degree night can save a relationship.

                                                                    ***

But will this new relationship last? Will I forget about this frigid start when the days grow longer and warmer?  

It’s too early to tell. Heating and energy efficiency experts will come next week to see what can be done. Insulated drapes are on their way. The Mortite is doing its duty.

I need to stay positive and try to love my old Cape Cod house.  I need to remember there’s a one-year shake-down whenever you move into a new place or start a new relationship.

The birds that have stuck around for the winter sing regardless of the temperature. Stars jam the January night sky. The faint horn of the Martha’s Vineyard ferry nudges me awake. The furnaces growl and wheeze and do the best they can. They may not be efficient, but they are mighty. The house fills with old and new friends.

“Some years ask questions, and some years give answers,” said the late writer Nora Zeale Hurston.

Last year, after my husband died, I asked who I wanted to be in this new phase of my life.  What am I doing when I feel most alive?  Where and how do I find joy and small pleasures? Where are the people who love and support me the most? What type of community would fill me with possibilities and those small pleasures?

This answer was not a quirky, old house. The answer was a quirky, old town, stocked with creative, welcoming people and shelves and shelves of Mortite caulking cord.