What Was I Thinking?

 

               What Was I Thinking?

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I know it is a good idea. It is. However, it is disrupting my entire life. Chaos for an unknown period of time. If only I had headed to the coast for a month of vacation, taken myself out of the mess. Oh, right. Limited funds. Vacation on coast versus new windows of the modern kind. Choice made.

Windows won. Winter’s coming on. My casita is one of the oldest here in our little compound. I love the aesthetic quality of my old wrought iron enclosed windows. Large, arched, drafty windows which wrap around my entire house. No walls, just windows. Wind and rain enter my house, not at will, but freely and frequently, if only during windy storms.

Living in Oconahua this past year of seasons, in a house with modern aluminum framed windows, I discovered that they are better at insulation, at keeping out rain and wind and dust and even the heat in the hottest months. I’ll still have all the wonderful light. With a mental boo-hoo, I choose to trade aesthetics for comfort.

That’s why I’m camping out in my bodega with a minimum of necessities. My poor house is overrun with men with hammers and chisels, overrun with chips of concrete and brick dust and bits of broken glass. (Men with hammers equal broken glass.)

In the mornings I go to my house early and make a pot of coffee. Everything is covered with sheets, including the kitchen stove and sink. Leo brings me street food mid-morning. My only real meal. Today it is tacos barbacoa. Yummy. The rest of the time I forage, which means cookies and such. This is not healthy. In the afternoon I opened a packet of tuna and ate it, as is. When an unadorned packet of tuna is appealing, you know you are at wit’s end. And this is only day three.

The hardest part for me is not knowing when I can “go home”. Home will mean days of clean up, laundering sheets and towels and tablecloths filled with dust, putting furniture back in place, washing every surface. Daunting. Yes. But preferable to lounging with cookies and my kindle all day.

Came day four, no men showed up. What? When will they be back? Maybe three, maybe four days. Shrug. After all, it is the last three days of October Fiesta. I uncovered my kitchen and cleaned like a mad woman.

Eight of my ten windows have the large bottom section installed, that is minus the arches which are made separately in Guadalajara. Those spaces are open to birds and bugs, lizards and scorpions. However, I spent the day shoveling debris and sweeping and clearing my kitchen space. Face planted into a filet of salmon.

Day five, back in the kitchen, making more food to carry me over the next invasion of men with hammers and chisels. Ginger chicken feast today.  

Day six, not feeling so frantic. Grind beans for coffee. Make two liters of agua fresca. Bake cookies. Mornings are cold in my house of many openings. My homemade tomato soup today, more food prep. I dislike having no estimate of when chaos will be finished, although I know the foolishness of depending on an estimate.

Last night was the last night of the annual ten-day October fiesta. Close by a horde of barbarians made noise from near dark until first light of false dawn. I hesitate to call the clamor music. Loud, it invaded even my cave of a bodega.

Day seven. Leo and Eddie will remove the final two windows. More mess. Progress. I yearn to clean. Some of the arches may show up tomorrow. How long will cauling take? These windows are huge.

Perhaps, perhaps, next week I can return home. Perhaps I’ll have lovely new windows. I’ll let you know. Meanwhile . . .

What was I thinking? I should have gone to the beach for an extended vacation. But, I have to be here to physically hold back any wandering storm clouds. It’s a tough and daunting job but somebody has to do it.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

October 30, 2025

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