Episode 17: That’s the limit!

Stacey Copeland  00:01

You’re listening to the Amplify Podcast Network.

Janna Klostermann  00:10

I remember one conversation with a research participant, Carrie. She talked about waking up on the floor of a Walmart with strangers tapping her shoulders, telling her to wake up, and she said that she’d just been pushed past her limits, both as a paid care worker and as a parent to two young kids. She described this as reaching her absolute breaking point and about making a run for it. And the whole time she talked, I felt like, all right, baby, here’s a woman who has gotten out. She’s exited care once and for all. I’m with you.

 

Sally Chivers  00:56

Welcome to Wrinkle Radio where the stories we tell about aging matter, I’m your host Dr Sally Chivers, I am so glad to be back after a long break, and I am so glad you have tuned in to listen to Janna Klosterman. We’re talking about what we gain when we recognize that care has limits.

 

Janna Klostermann  01:30

Well, I first started researching care at a time when I was really licking my own wounds or trying to recover from my own experience of working with and supporting older people with disabilities. I really kind of entered into that project feeling like I was on a mission to warn women about the shit society throws at them. I was hungry to connect with other women to try to see if they’d experienced anything like I had as a care worker.

 

Sally Chivers  02:01

That’s Janna Klostermann, assistant professor of sociology at the University of Calgary. The project she’s talking about is research for her book, just out from the University of Toronto press. It’s called At the Limits of Care. Jana talked to 12 women who had stepped back from care. The conversations were in depth. Some of them were as long as nine hours. It was part of her work as a sociologist. But the introduction to the book comes from Janna’s own experience diving right into and then emerging from life as a care worker. It is the best book introduction I’ve ever read: poignant, thoughtful, funny, angry, familiar and strange.

 

Janna Klostermann  02:51

I remember that I was beyond, past my limits, and this was when I was living and working at l’arche, which came in exchange for a room and board. And in our household, there were young live-in assistants from around the world, as well as people with disabilities who needed support with all aspects of their daily living. And gosh, I was just like past my limits. I remember going to this event at a local United Church. I went to the bathroom to help someone change their diaper. I came back only to see a woman I supported with her wheelchair pulled up to the buffet and her hand in a pasta dish. I think when I first started, I might have been able to laugh it off or crack a joke.

 

Janna Klostermann  03:39

Initially in the work when women would charge over to me in Starbucks and mention that I must be an angel, that they didn’t know how I did it, I always used to take that as a compliment. Gosh, they’re the angels for putting up with me or the people I support. They’re the real angels. But by the end of the work, the women coming over in Starbucks to compliment how they didn’t know how I did it, I’d be half thinking to myself, like, yep, must be nice. I bet you’ve never, never entered this line of work. Or, yep, I get it a real comment on my class position. Thank you. Or, and maybe I’d say, thanks. But you can read between the lines.

 

Janna Klostermann  04:19

And I remember at that United Church dinner, when it’s time to leave, I noticed that there’s urine all over one of the chairs at the table we’d been sitting in. Previous Janna, used to ask one of the volunteers, “do you happen to have any paper towel and some cleaning spray? Just have to clean up a little wee spray.” just on the way out, and I remember telling a woman, “yep, there’s urine on that chair all over there, hopefully someone could clean it up.” I think by the time I had been well past my limits, like I couldn’t even be bothered to collect the moral wages or to try to play it off in any way, either to cash in on it, or show this as evidence of what a caring person I was who could just handle it. It became more and more this like sense of resentment from having been completely overworked

 

Sally Chivers  05:20

The intense early times of the Covid 19 pandemic and the aftermath have taught most of us to recognize a worker who needs a break, who needs a change to her schedule, who needs a leave. I’m sure most of you join me in rooting for Janna, hoping that’s where the story’s going, while secretly also hoping we’ve never been like those women in Starbucks.

 

Janna Klostermann  05:44

I went into a boss’s office and I just said, I’m past my breaking point. I’m just so burnt out. I knew that it was a uncomfortable thing to admit, but I asked, is there any way you could reduce my hours and reduce my pay? And the woman just smirked, giggled, and was so taken back. I don’t know what the slipping out the giggle was, but surprised that I had needs or an unexpected request for one of these young volunteers to make that what I wanted to work less and and less pay. And then the response there was, “Nope, you’re gonna live here as one of our care assistants. You need to work your full hours.” Pushed past my limits and even to the point where I was willing to admit it, there was just such a lack of support for anyone in that caring role, they weren’t even letting me reduce the hours, let alone quit, not that that would have kept me in it. Wow, finding some ways to support people in working reduce work hours, or finding ways to contain that care or that work so it’s not spilling into your whole life where I think those boundaries could be really important and and mean some better care in the long run.

 

Sally Chivers  07:07

When I hear you tell that story, I wonder whether she actually had had people do that over the years, and that was part of the giggle. She was like, here we go. Here’s my standard response. We’re expecting this burnout cycle, or if you write it as a novel, you wonder whether it’s like she was just on her way out too. She went out and had a smoke and never came back.

 

Sally Chivers  07:28

It’s kind of funny that I slip out a giggle in my response to Janna telling that story, kind of like the woman who treated her so poorly. Janna did end up leaving that position, and she thought she was exiting care. Instead, she entered a lifetime of studying care work. As the saying goes, every time she thought she was out, it pulled her back in. Talking to Carrie, the woman who found herself asleep on the floor of Walmart taught Janna she wasn’t alone in that.

 

Janna Klostermann  08:06

But as our conversation went on, we both talked about how we’re still thinking about questions about what we owe others, or how to have good relationships, or even how should we respond with questions about care demands, or even with a family member wanting you to accompany them to an appointment, or all these just relentless invitations to care. This really stood out with even how much she put the emphasis on saying even now, I still struggle with it, or there’s still something about it that has me hooked. It feels like I haven’t quite got out. It wasn’t just as easy as handing in your two weeks notice or getting out of a particular job. It was about bigger questions around how to make a life or what kind of life do you want in community with others.

 

Sally Chivers  09:01

The job betrayed Jana. It was exploitative. It didn’t respect her limits as a human and that kind of broke her heart because she went into care work as a moral, good and true path for the type of life she wanted to live.

 

Janna Klostermann  09:17

I worked as a care worker in my 20s at a slew of different organizations, and at that time was really drawn in by liberation theology or social justice teachings. I saw a lot of value in the work of listening and learning from older adults or people with disabilities. And I can remember my early time in that work where I would jog alongside people on these adaptive bike rides, or I once walked into work with 20 purple balloons tied to me, dressed like a bunch of grapes, and co workers often commented that I was bringing out a funnier or light hearted side of the people I supported, and I really believed that the work was doing the same for me. It felt like a calling or a vocation. There really was honeymoon phase of what was possible in that work, and I think that was what made it painful when I reached my limit or couldn’t keep it up, having to resign or feeling so depleted, really, felt like a crisis of self. It also felt a bit humiliating at that time. I mean, a lot of my friends, they’d gone off to find husbands or get good jobs or have kids or the baby in a bungalow, and these wonderful careers. I felt a bit humiliated to admit I’d gone after what felt like a really cool counterpath to devote my life to this really radical way of living. And then I kind of felt like the butt of the joke. Maybe I should have thought of that sooner. So it really was a painful stretch of feeling like it was this kind of rupture or real turning point for me.

 

Sally Chivers  11:07

There’s nothing like a young adult for believing they have a monopoly on doing good in the world and the best roadmap for how to do it. Remember when you thought life would be different for you, despite all the clearer evidence around you? But there is something different about care. Our entire world, especially the aging population, rests precariously on the house of cards that is women caring as a natural seeming extension of themselves. Our entire world relies on not valuing that care, not noticing it, not naming it, not paying for it. We collectively survive because people will feel, as Janna did, that it is the right and moral thing to do. It’s a seductive trap to think caring relies on individual traits and actions, that we’re a good person if we do it, that we’re a bad person if we can’t.

 

Janna Klostermann  12:08

In one of the interviews I conducted, this woman, Marilyn, she put the emphasis on the exemplary care she had provided, and it was the story about skill, her training as a nurse, how good she was at it, and how others had always respected her for the exemplary care she provided. And she mentioned a couple times like knew it already, like she was prepared. She knew how to care for her mother. She had the trick. That whole conversation, I felt like I was thinking, gosh, maybe there is something wrong with me. Or, Oh, didn’t think to do that. Or oh, like, I wasn’t as well bounded as Marilyn, and I remember that I broached it at the time, or I said, like, Oh, gosh. Like, the whole time you’re talking, I’m just thinking that there’s something about me that wasn’t as well suited for it. And she certainly didn’t bail me out. Her response was, Well, gosh, you know, some people like a big frenzy, which was really almost to suggest, like I brought those problems on myself. For a woman who couldn’t hack it, there must be something wrong with her.

 

Sally Chivers  13:17

There I go, slipping out another giggle, but it’s an edgy laugh. Most of us love a frenzy, as Marilyn hilariously puts it, or at least, not all of us can keep calm and carry on as lives sit on our shoulders. Our entire care system cannot thrive if we’re holding out for heroes. Janna explained that there was much more even to Marilyn’s story.

 

Janna Klostermann  13:44

I guess I was a bit pleased as I read and reread the interview transcript and really thought about our conversation, I noticed how much she was talking about conditions, and it wasn’t really a story about a type of person. As I read through the fine print I saw, Oh, she had talked about teamwork all the way along. She’d mentioned that there were three siblings providing support for her mom, and they were all invested, and they all traded off, and they all took turns. She also even had talked about quality care at the nursing home where her mom lived, where she trusted in the staff and the calls in the middle of the night were few and far between. I really thought, Oh, why was it so hard to tell a story about that. The two of us were meeting in conversation and telling stories about the type of woman she is and the type of woman I am, but not doing nearly enough to really think about how different care work is in very different contexts.

 

Sally Chivers  14:47

It sounds like Marilyn could be so calm, could carry on, could stay in rather than exit care, because there already were so many limits on the care she was called to give. The nursing home respected boundaries. She only had part of the responsibility for her mother’s care, even the responsibility beyond what the nursing home provided. There were breaks from the frenzy,

 

Sally Chivers  15:12

as Janna teaches us in her book and in her work, when we recognize and support and respect the limits of care workers, rather than pushing them past their limits, we can improve the conditions of care. Care itself can become better

 

Sally Chivers  15:43

If you’re provoked, even a little annoyed by this suggestion, you are not alone. Janna’s research has what she’s come to call a flinch factor. The thought that someone could just quit, could just seem to give up on you, might refuse to buy into the system; the system that’s holding us all up; the system we know we need to have there for us: that is terrifying, because we know that we do hold out for care heroes. We women know we’re supposed to be those heroes in big and small ways, every second of every minute of every hour of every day. When care falters, it is much easier to blame an individual for falling short than to figure out how to change an entire structure. I’ve watched Janna respond to this flinch factor in academic settings where people are supposedly committed to understanding and changing the entire system.

 

Janna Klostermann  16:40

An example that comes to mind was when I presented at a sociology conference, and I was so proud to take this stage to ask a question, what about the limits of care? What about women who are exiting? What could we learn from them? And right away, I received two knee jerk responses from women in the audience, and one she seemed to really raise concerns about, well, who’s going to care for us, or who’s going to do it, or, gee, must be a real privileged exit, but us feminists who value care know that it needs to be done. Or there was this kind of real fear there around who’s actually going to provide that care, and with care services spread so thin, or long wait lists for care, or people having real concerns about how their own needs will be met, that really hit on something. And the other response that kind of rode alongside that. One was from a woman who raised her hand right away to really pick apart my story, or suggest, like there must have just been something uniquely fucked up about me, that I didn’t set boundaries, or it’s a type of person, or, gosh, you didn’t notice the red flags, or my story was an uncomfortable reminder of how vulnerable we all are.

 

Janna Klostermann  18:05

The one woman felt vulnerable in terms of how the care needs would be provided, and I think the second maybe she didn’t want to admit that something like that could happen to her, or that she might be vulnerable or not be able to do well in a caring role herself, and I think it was maybe easier to pin it on a type of person.

 

Sally Chivers  18:28

Janna’s explanation makes so much sense, and her willingness to share that vulnerability is endearing.  I do share some of the fears the women in the audience expressed. I do worry about who will care for me when I need it. I also worry about under what conditions they’ll be working.

 

Sally Chivers  18:52

Talking to Janna always makes me think about a really underrated and under read Canadian book of short stories. It’s called “A Sleep Full of Dreams” by Edna Alford. Alford wrote it out of her experiences working in nursing homes and hospitals while she was an English literature student. It’s written in the third person, but the main character is Arla Peterson, a care worker. Arla’s stories resonate with the stories from Janna’s research, including Janna’s own story. Using fiction for this allows readers a gentle way to think about how they would work within the limits of care, and how much better care might be if those limits were approached responsibly.

 

Sally Chivers  19:41

I want to read you two excerpts that especially make me think of Janna’s work. They’re from the final story in the short story cycle. A resident is dying. Arla has asked. One of the matrons to bring in the doctor, and the matron has said the doctor won’t come until the afternoon. Here’s how that scene goes. “This afternoon?” Arla protested, “this afternoon could be too late” “Well, he said he probably couldn’t do much for her, after all, Arla, she’s almost 100 years old. We all have to go. Arla, our time here is limited. The Lord will be waiting for Mrs. Dawson”. Arla turned and left. “That’s the limit.” She muttered to herself in the hallway. “That has to be the limit. All that malarkey about the so called Lord, when really they don’t give a damn when it comes right down to it, not if you really looked at the place.” She thought it reminded her of a holding pen.

 

Sally Chivers  20:45

Something about this moment with Mrs. Dawson and Arla’s particular connection to that lodger shifts something in Arla, and it allows the readers to shift their perspectives too and think about what they’re learning and experiencing alongside Arla.

 

Sally Chivers  21:11

Arla goes to talk to another one of the matrons after Mrs. Dawson dies. As I read this, you might want to think about how it compares to Jenna’s story about going to talk to her supervisor when she was pushed past her limits. Here’s how the scene goes. She closed the door quietly when she left the room, and without looking back, she went to tell the matron that it was over, that Mrs. Dawson had died. “I quit, “she said, quite without warning to herself, “I beg your pardon” said matron Oliver, who was sitting behind the office desk with Miss Piedmont, they were going over figures which Arla could see only upside down in the ledger. “I said, I’m giving my notice.” Arla said, calmly, “Listen, dear, I’ll take care of arrangements for Mrs. Dawson,” the matron was moving toward Arla, reaching out to put her arms around her. But Arla backed away. “It doesn’t matter.” She said, “I’ll do it.” In a way, she was sorry she had said it. Remembered the other lodgers who had died while she was on duty, remembered everyone gone since she had come to work at Pine Mountain. Remembered her fingers on their eyes, bathing their bodies, stuffing their dark mouths and anuses full of cotton. “I’m quitting anyway”, she said, “But what will you do? “Asked the matron, gentle now, “I don’t know,” said Arla, “but I’ll find something.”

 

Sally Chivers  22:55

When I first read this at 28 I cheered for Arla. I thought she was such a hero for the work she had done, and for deciding to walk away from such a horrible place, the care she wanted to give wasn’t even possible in that space. In my first book, I wrote about it as a failure: not Arla’s failure, but a failure of the institution. That’s a solid interpretation, but now, when I think back on it, I have to ask about the lodgers, the residents, the old people who are left living in Pine Mountain Lodge. What Janna’s research offers us that a lot of people miss is a better situation for the people doing the care work and for people receiving care. She’s not always talking about quitting. She’s talking about how to stay in care and how setting limits could make that more possible.

 

Janna Klostermann  23:50

Looking at limits really gave me some reverence for nursing home residents, as well as for family caregivers and paid workers. I think one of the questions I’m asking is, how can we have care security for older adults, children, disabled people or those who need care without setting women up for such intimate losses? This work comes out of acknowledgement of our shared vulnerability, or of seeing how high the stakes are, or how we need to get this right as a society for people who deserve to have their needs met and deserve quality care,

 

Sally Chivers  24:29

Listening to you explain this to me, I think about how the silver tsunami metaphor situates old people as this massive, amorphous set of needs. Sometimes the imagery even has walkers and canes and all these icons of need and of health care. I have this inkling that while on the surface it might look like okay, we’re going to talk about the people who just walk away from care jobs and care roles. What happens to these poor, frail, older adults? But I think it also opens a door to be like, who does need care, and what does that mean about them? If you think of care as a trap or as an obligation or as an extension of a personality: who wants to be the recipient of that really like a baby, right? Sure, like, that’s fine. You’re basically a meatloaf. But what adult person wants to need that? These stories of quitting care liberate people’s late life.

 

Janna Klostermann  25:40

Gosh, Oh, yeah. Powerfully stated, those care relationships can be some of the most meaningful of our lives. I think even what a privilege it was to be able to support people or accompany them at a certain stage of life, and that whether it’s the quality of relationship that’s possible or the real way that you kind of get to know someone or appreciate their needs, or be able to notice and respond to them.

 

Sally Chivers  26:09

I’m thinking, I’ve fallen I’ve broken my hip. I need a caregiver. Janna comes over. She’s hilarious. She loves her job, but then I find out she’s stuck in it. She’s doing it because she has to she needs money, or thinks she’ll be a terrible person. That, to me, makes me feel worse about having a broken hip and needing Janna. Quitting care could mean I quit getting care. If people hear the general topic of your book, they could think like, well, what if I don’t want care? What if I refuse care? I don’t want to set it up just as a dyad. But part of the problem that you take on in this is that we only think of care as a dyad. But what if I decide, okay, well, Janna is only here because she’s feels trapped and she’s obviously completely burnt out, so I’m rejecting care.

 

Janna Klostermann  27:05

I remember a conversation with one of the women that I interviewed, and she had talked about how a resident that she supported took his time getting to know people and didn’t let them in right away, then expressed concern that she was going to be just another heartbreaker who breaks his heart. And really felt troubled by that, the idea that she was leaving and going to break the heart of this guy. And it really hit me how there was maybe an assumption that he was a bit pathetic, or wouldn’t be able to cope with it, or wouldn’t have any resources to even know what to do with a woman like her leaving. And I thought, What about having more stories around it where it wouldn’t have been at all taken as a slight to him. If we thought more about care as a shared responsibility, or thought more about turntaking, where there wasn’t any assumption that someone would commit to care indefinitely, against all odds, pinky swear to provide it forever. It felt like part of the problem was around the rituals or the stories, or even the way that that person who relied on care was treated. Why on earth should it at all be seen as a reflection of him or of neediness or burdensomeness if an individual can no longer do it?

 

Janna Klostermann  28:34

A point that I make in the book is around really thinking about care as a shared responsibility, and I often think like, gosh, if you’re going in alone, don’t go. If it’s going to be this self – other care relationship where you’re the only one who could care for them, I’d maybe say that isn’t even care. We really need to rethink whether that’s sustainable or something that would provide quality care in the long run, without the option to take turns or trade off or share responsibility.

 

Janna Klostermann  29:10

And looking at the ways that women told their stories, I often noticed that some in an older cohort who talked about family care responsibilities, they often talked about carrying out of loyalty and bonding, providing care and being the only one who could do it. This dominant policy assumption that a daughter will do it. The lack of adequate public services means that women are assigned almost sole responsibility for keeping their mothers alive. And in their story, there was a real emphasis on being the only one who could keep mom alive, or the only one who was able to support her at that difficult time. And that’s a really tough position to be in. It really speaks to the need for thinking beyond that self-other care relationship to give women more options and to give people who rely on that care more options.

 

Janna Klostermann  30:08

Another strand of stories. It wasn’t about being the only one who could do it. It was often told the way I told my story to you, about care as the only way of life, central to who I am, central to my identity, my life path. often with those in their 20s or 30s I interviewed, they were talking about caring to rebel, caring to contribute to these broader political projects, maybe informed by disability theory or queer theory, and really seeing that this is a way to contribute to an intellectual or political project of sorts, to be a certain kind of person and invest in care as the only thing. I also saw how much having care as the only thing really kept workers trapped or they’re staying past the point of power struggling, or past the point of being harsh with the people they support, or needing to sneak away to the bathroom to sneak in an extra break even past their limits. It was still so hard to leave in both situations.

 

Janna Klostermann  31:19

Whether we’re talking about family caregivers or paid workers, not entertaining exits, or not really talking about limits, just sets people up for subpar care, or it means you have a worker there that feels that they have limited other options, or does indeed have limited other options, and that it’s a real detriment to the quality of that relationship, or what could be possible if there were more people trading off, or if there was much more of a public investment in quality care, or higher standards, or more home care supports, where there’d be others coming in, taking a shift and a valued job, where people could walk in with their head held high and really be part of that team to support it.

 

Sally Chivers  32:12

I find this really convincing, and it helps me make sense of why we need to address getting hooked on care, as Janna puts it, or as she talks about in her book, being care junkies.

 

Sally Chivers  32:33

So what makes someone a care junkie? That’s got to be a flinch factor. Word too, right? Like some people probably react to addiction as a metaphor, or is it a metaphor?

 

Janna Klostermann  32:49

Care junkie. There was something about that where I can remember, in my early stories, it felt like this uniquely special position to be in or no one went under as hard as I did, I used to say. There was just something over the top about how hard I had burned out, and it felt like this individual position, like of a woman who’d really pushed it too far. And I kind of liked that through the research  it maybe became a little less special to really notice the ways that women are set up, whether it’s in paid care work or unpaid family care, or at different moments across the life course that there’s maybe more than one care junkie out there, I guess.

 

Sally Chivers  33:35

Right.And so in your book, you have advice for care junkies. Is that right? What is that section called? And can you say more about that?

 

Janna Klostermann  33:46

At the time of conducting the research, I had kind of joked about it, feeling like it was these hosting these care junkie recovery group meetings, and some sure rolled up their sleeves. They were up for the challenge and wanting to put those what seemed like the unsayable parts on the record, like challenging women’s endless care, or ideals around servitude or secrecy in the context of care, I kind of thought that that was the space we were creating. And then in the book, I included a care junkie discussion guide, where I offer some free writing prompts or discussion prompts. I don’t think you’ll find one bit of advice in there, but they are ways to maybe invite reflection on the stories we tell about ourselves or about our relationships, about the conditions shaping how we come to care, or to really, maybe build empathy for the very different ways people are positioned in it. And I think even that woman, Marilyn, like she couldn’t understand how I burnt out, she had really figured out what care was about, or how to do it, what it means, how to thrive in that role, where to. Consider it in a different context, or to really think about the different condition shaping it wasn’t on her radar as much. So I’m excited about that part of the book, because I think it might at least get us talking. And I did find a lot of value from chatting with women in different age cohorts or with very different experiences, and even if we’re scolding each other at the odd time or jumping in to kind of jostle for moral position.

 

Sally Chivers  35:36

On Wrinkle radio, I always ask guests to talk about how the topic affects their own lives. We’ve heard about Janna’s experiences as a care worker who exited care. I asked her to talk about how she thought this would affect her as someone who receives care.

 

Janna Klostermann  35:56

I remember before my heart surgery, where a woman, her advice had been to lean into it, make yourself vulnerable, if it’s gonna be a worker yanking you out of bed, let them or just gonna be open to whatever the experience was. And I think that there maybe was some value in that. Of course, we have concerns about what our futures will look like, or living with the uncertainty of long wait lists or being able to access services. And I know I sure flinch when I hear the stories about people dying on wait lists as they’re waiting for care, or the poor quality of care that some are receiving. Those stories always really hit close to home for me. So I definitely want some structural change or better investments anda much more of a focus on that, but I think even on the day to day, I’d be maybe a little bit glad if a care worker supporting me felt they had some space to share about what their work was really like, or to alk about the actual labor without mystifying it or trivializing it, or saying something that they thought might cheer me up, where maybe we could have a conversation where their conditions of work aren’t a reflection of who I am my own worthiness of care. But I think there could be really something possible with something that really acknowledges the fullness of people without simplifying it, just gonna give this fake little smile and ignore some of the issues that are happening.

 

Sally Chivers  37:36

Thank you, Janna, for taking the time to talk to me, and thank you also for writing a book that’s so well researched, so well written, so deeply academic and yet still so readable, practical and thoughtful for the people who most need it. You can read more about it in Janna’s book “At the Limits of Care.” It’s published by the University of Toronto press, and should be available anywhere you get your books.

 

Sally Chivers  38:12

This has been Wrinkle Radio. Thank you for tuning in for the first time or tuning in again after a long break. We’re part of the Amplify Scholarly Podcast Network. We’re part of the Aging in Data research project funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. It will not be as long a wait for the next episode. To make sure you don’t miss it: like, subscribe, follow. Every platform calls it something different, and remember, tell your friends, tell your family, tell your neighbors, tell the Marilyns and Carries in your life. And don’t panic! It’s just aging.

 

Music  39:00

I wanna grow older. I wanna grow flowers in a house that’s made of you, sit and watch the sun set, get some wrinkles on my forehead. I wanna build fires in a house that’s made of you.