For as long as I have lived in this house, the Christmas tree has been erected in the same spot in the corner of the lounge. This year I decided to do something different and put it at the other end of the open living space nearer the dining area. It is a decision that is now impacting far more than a few baubles and flashing bulbs. Yesterday, I thought it was time to unplug the lights. I had to reach in to an awkward spot behind the tree and used the window sill to steady me. It felt spongy. I got up and tapped it and had a hollow feeling in both my fingertips and stomach. That was the feel of wood ravaged by termites. My Mum told me it could be wet rot. I tried to be positive. The termite man stopped that dead in its tracks. They micro menaces with the hefty appetites had taken a fancy to soft wood in skirting boards etc all over the place. Two bedrooms, the lounge, the dining room, the garage and into the roof. Basically one side of the house. Dirty little aggressive shits. I took the news calmly. I've been in this situation once before. I know the drill. While the area is widespread, the damage is relatively superficial in the termite scheme of things. Nothing needs to be demolished. Nothing is about to self destruct. It's costly and bloody, bloody irritating, don't get me wrong, but there's no use crying over chewed timber or something. Moving the Christmas tree and tapping that windowsill may have saved me from a fate far, far worse. But even the most glass half full person can't pretend not to pissed off by the thousands of dollars needed to be invested in termite-renovation and termite barrier protection. I had home renovations on my New Year's resolution list but this was NOT what I had in mind. So rather than dwell on something I can not change, I decided to take refuge in my happy place. I took the dogs to the beach. Bribie Island was the obvious choice for many good reasons. 1) Its proximity to Brisbane; 2) the rather delicious dog off leash beach and 3) the fact that one of my best buddies is presently residing in the family's holiday digs on the Island. A walk along the beach chatting about life, the universe and everything while watching the dogs frolic was just what I needed. The poisoned termite-eaten wood may have still been in the house when I got home but at least my head was better positioned to deal with it.
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