Two 3.8-mile city rides.
I am taking my life in my hands to commute by bike, even over established, signposted bike routes. Denver's particular driving quirk is to run red lights--to keep going straight through the yellow, so that people waiting to turn left do so on the red, on the mutual red and even against the opposing's green. I know to watch for that.
I don't expect cars to come to full stops at stop signs, especially in residential areas like those the bike routes go through. I don't rely on blinkers. I am shocked--still--by how many people look left when turning right on red, for cars on the road they're turning into, but not right, where a cyclist might be waiting. And if the light turns green in that time, so that the straight-going traffic (including the bike that's been there longer than the right-turning car that didn't even see it as the driver approached the intersection) has the right of way, the driver will turn.
Making eye contact is critical.
This occurred to me, for the first time and in so many words, the other night as I demolished the brush pile into manageable fagots. We await the verdict of geotechnical and structural engineers on the fate of the foundation; we need to contract with a landscape engineer about the north side of the house because neither of us foresees the exact grading called for; and lots of the brickwork needs tuckpointing.
It doesn't matter.
I have always wanted a house. I have always wanted a house the way some people have always wanted a child. Blind to the responsbilities, ignorant of the challenges, unknowing of the maintenance. This house isn't the one I expected, but now it's mine. Mine, yet still its own, with its own individuality that I'm responsible for, to preserve and improve and pass into the future.
It's an imperfect analogy, of course, but fitting in another way. I never questioned whether my desire was right to act on. Lots of people want kids but don't weigh whether their parenting resources are sufficient. I wanted a house but didn't consider whether my mechanical, design, landscaping, gardening, and overall housekeeping skills were up to the task. I just blundered willfully into the job, trusting to love and devotion.
But so far we're doing okay. And I don't regret it for a second.