You know what I mean. I’m talking about that ship. The one which is carrying your treasure. The ship we wait for all our lives. Someone once asked me if I’d been down to the wharf lately to wave at incoming ships. “Maybe,” she said, “Your ship is out there just looking for you, loaded with treasure and unless you wave it into shore, it will never find you.” Now there’s a thought.
I went outside to collect a package this morning. When I came inside, the door molding fell off, revealing a mess of dry and not-so-dry rot underneath. I don’t know if we need a new door assembly (again), but we absolutely need some repairs to the threshold and the door frame. If we don’t fix it, I’m pretty sure it will fix us.
I know money cannot buy happiness, but I’m replete with happiness. Any happiness that comes without a price, I’ve got it. I need some of the stuff that only money can buy. Repairs to the house. New bathroom fixtures and flooring. Paint. Molding. Someone to clean the gutters, paint the window frames, and clean up what used to be a garden. Repave the driveway.
Neither God nor love nor hope of a miracle pays those bills. So barring my treasure ship showing up in port, I’m not sure what, exactly, remains for me to do.
Because that door frame is looking expensive in a dollar sign kind of way.