The townhouses are under construction!

but then, the only constant in life is change.

Recently the townhouse next to mine became vacant after the tenant was evicted. I’ll spare you details but her treatment of its insides have warranted a complete gutting, including some of the drywall, all of the cabinetry, and even removal of the popcorn ceiling. The construction mayhem, since the day after she disappeared Von Trapp-style in the night, has been incessant. There have been drills, drywallers, movers, fans, and recently a chemical spray which, I’m told, is intended to cut the odors left behind. A trailer was parked in our courtyard¹ for several days and people have walked by my window, dragging equipment and talking loudly, nonstop for a couple of weeks now. For someone who works from home, the bedlam has been difficult. And my cats are completely freaked.²

So that’s Townhouse Number 3. The owner of Townhouses Number 1 and 4 has decided to sell her units, and the sale of Number 1 closed just about the time the construction commenced. Additional movers, family members, boxes, pets, doors opening and closing, new vehicles, and parking quandaries have upended the quiet existence I’ve had so far, and once Number 4 sells we’ll start all over. If you have not deduced, I am in Number 2.

I bring all this up because the past two and a half years have been relatively tranquil for me over here on my side of the townhouses. I’d rarely seen more than a door dasher walk the sidewalk in front of my place, and certainly no loud voices or trailers interrupted the peace. These few weeks have been quite an adjustment for me, even though the interior my home is mostly undisturbed, I continue to enjoy quiet coffee on my patio chair early in the mornings, and no one — so far — has parked in my spot.

She doesn’t look freaked out in THIS picture but she spends most of the day hiding under something when the ruckus is occurring.

All this to say, change can be surprisingly disruptive, especially when it isn’t our doing. If we decide to move, or buy a new car, or adopt a dog — we anticipate and mentally prepare for the new route to the grocery, or the new controls on the dashboard (not to mention the new car payment!). That’s different from when you share a wall with someone, and up to one week ago, that wall emitted silence but now it’s full of creaks and squeaks as people move around and walk up and down stairs and open and close doors.

One time in my teaching experience, the school hired a new principal. Superintendents came and went but the principals generally stayed a long while, so this only happened to me once. I recall being filled with anxiety, even though in my own classroom things likely wouldn’t change much. I felt incredulous at my own unease. Being subjected to a force affecting me, over which I had no control, stripped away my comfort.

Yet, isn’t this kind of change inevitable? In college,³ I served as the operations & change manager at a little convenience store on the campus at Georgetown. One of my tasks was to ensure there was always enough change in the safe for the registers. Someone had long ago pasted onto the safe a print-out of the axiom, “The only constant in life is change.”⁴ I suppose now is the time to embrace that idea, to accept that stepping toward the changes, even those out of my control, provides a way to grow and become a more fully adaptable human.

In fact, one of my adaptations to the recent pandemonium has been to walk to a nearby coffee shop and work from there — a change which has been so pleasant I may incorporate it into my regular work life.

1. on the grass!!!

2. yet continue to nap adorably

3. I just realized this year is my 30-year reunion. **choke**

4. Heraclitus said this, according to the internet