My little room that was.

I have too much stuff.  Hubs and I unloaded the living room of contents over the weekend to make way for new walls, new trusses, new flooring.  We have a 99% agreed upon kitchen design and an ever increasing pile of debris in the yard.  Dumpster prices are dumb and the length of time you can keep a dumpster is dumb, so we have put off getting a dumpster until the last possible moment…which means someone is going to have to throw that increasing pile from the ground to the dumpster.

 

It has rained a lot over the last week making it a little sloppy around the house, where the little grass we do have has been pulled out by equipment driving around on it, as well as some of the excavating, and now dying underneath piles of stuff.  Our block mason did take away most of the dirt he removed for the foundation and I realize he is likely going to use it somewhere else as fill, for someone else’s project.  Recycle, reuse…it’s all good.  But, if you ever wonder how artifacts long buried get from one spot to another, this is a possibility.  From my home to yours...dirt, and all it holds.

So, anyway, we now have most of my living room in the foyer.  All the blankets, pillows, and softer items have landed in the guest room.  We arranged a quiet haven in the basement, so we can get away and relax.  It’s going to be like this for a while I know, and I am so very looking forward to the changes that are coming.   I would like to have my son-in-law here to help hubs, but, there’s no place for him to sleep! While I have piled the guest bed upstairs with pillows and blankets and soft stuff, the TV is face down on the extra bed downstairs.

 

I think about my kids as babies crawling around on the floor in our now empty little living room.  We have used this room as both living room and dining room in our history.  My daughter practiced piano in that room for many years, piano lessons from her very accomplished grandfather next door.  Our first computer was there in what now seems a century ago, and this same daughter is now working in a software industry.  The boy she would first "chat" with, when that technology was brand new,  is now her husband.  My youngest daughter brought her now husband home from college and we shared dinner in that room, and sized him up, while he offered to help with dinner and meant it. My son and I stayed awake late into the night and watched David Letterman attach velcro to a jumpsuit and hurl himself onto the wall.  He developed his sleeping habits from me I'm afraid, and it started in that room.  

I look forward to the changes, and cherish those memories.  I came across a picture the other day while cleaning out saved papers from a box in the attic, of our house filled with family for my son’s 4^th birthday party.  I was hugely pregnant with my youngest child, and there were small kids running through the crowd, running through the little room,  my mom and dad both in the picture, my father-in-law…it was a snapshot both literally and figuratively.   Happy days, very happy days. There are more to come I know, as we extend our little living room, as we have our little family, making room for more.  

No, not me.

My life may never feel caught up again.  This morning, as I walked around the yard making a list…you know I love to do that, of what yet needs to happen, I ran out of space on my mental paper.  It’s getting overwhelming.  I think hubs was overwhelmed about a month ago, has somewhat recovered and now it’s my turn.

 

There’s a huge pile of what was once our deck in the yard, there’s a big empty hole…impeccably framed by cement block, that will be the extension of the living room, there’s a boarded up side of the house that was once the bay window.  And, our contractor is not scheduled for at least another two weeks.  How did this happen?  I know this will get done and will be perfect in a few weeks but this stage, this beginning part, is a bit of a large *gulp* and *gasp*

Last week I was sent to our county’s building department to get the building permit which I had previously stated I was absolutely positively NOT going to be the one to do.  My reasons were clear – I didn’t know what I was talking about.  I can talk about paint colors and fabric choices all day but talking about how many square feet is your addition and what’s your roofing material is a bit out of my zone.  Even though hubs can’t get there easily, I advised him to take an afternoon off and make the trip as I was not gonna, no sir, not me, no way.

Of course, the building permit question became an emergency text to me one morning while I was washing up some dishes, having not showered, wearing a scruffy black dress I wear around the house, and hadn’t combed my hair in more than a day.  “You have to go do this as there is a concrete truck scheduled…”  Ugh.  Seems the block mason had some time free up and he could do his part starting TODAY.

  

You know the old saying “Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part”? I find that does not apply when a couple undertakes a home renovation project…at least not to this couple.  Everything is an emergency.  I threw on some, oh let's say, additional garments, put my very unkempt hair in a pony tail (which I have only recently mastered) and off I went, with limited knowledge, and a bad attitude, to the building department.

I don’t want to say it was a horrible experience, but it was far from pleasant.  Of course, there were issues with the permit application, which my hubs printed off their online page but failed to sign.  There was also a second part of that application that was required…I couldn’t get the building permit, which the women in the department treated as if it were one of the scrolls of the Dead Sea.  I spent an hour there, leaving empty handed except for the scrawled note I made regarding the permit needs, my contractor’s phone number and promised to return.

  

I headed home, washed my hair, changed my clothes and drove the half hour up to hubs work to give him a strong piece of my mind and collect his signature on the forms.  I had a conversation with him in the car all the way there.  Well, he wasn’t actually IN the car but I gave him a talking to, let me tell you. I did what I needed, stopped at home on the way back to eat a quick lunch, talked to the block mason who was waiting on me and the permit, having already called off the truck.  I felt fortified and went back to the building department to file the paperwork and get this show on the road.

I walked up to the counter, sporting my pink floral top and my fluffed up hair, smiled and lined my paperwork up like little soldiers and explained to a different office person that I was there to get a building permit.  She checked one or two boxes for completion, asked a question and gave me an amount to pay.   She finally looked up at me and said “Were you here this morning?”  No, no that wasn’t me.  

I know a good tailor.

It’s kind of late in the day of the weekday I usually post to my blog.  Usually, it’s Tuesday, sometimes Wednesday, last week I did not post at all because of the 4^th of July holiday week taking up much of my own time and, I imagine, a lot of yours.

 

We also started the demolition process on the house! Let me catch you up…we tore off the deck right after the 4^th.  We thought it would be nice if we waited until the people were off it, you know.  In so doing, we moved my twisted Harry Lauder Walking Stick bush to a new spot.  Now, I don’t know if Harry will make it but since there was a tractor here with forks that could lift it right out of the ground, we thought why not try.  We tore apart the old shed, but it still has some standing walls.  We removed the bay window in the dining room, which will soon be open to the new living room.  We confirmed a start date for the mason to do the foundation AND we are about 98% in agreement for the kitchen design.  That’s serious and puts us well underway.  I think.  There is junk everywhere people, and torn up yard, mud and clay.  I am in serious need of a dumpster.  My little shed is a bit of a respite for these messy times and I enjoy going out there to sit, and ponder what lies ahead.

We are also on the list for the tree removal service, if they ever decide to respond to an email.

 

My entire house is a mess.  Things need to come out of cabinets and closets.  Chairs are shoved out of the way, the counter is full of plans and tools.  Hubs and I are able, so far, to keep track of each other but don’t ask where the measuring tape or the eraser, magic marker, bill to pay or letter to respond to has gone.  It’s crazy town for sure.

Last week, we hosted our 7-year-old granddaughter for a few extra days after the 4^th.  It was pure joy to have her with us.  In between the work we feasted, we visited, shopped, boated, swam the lake and even went to a musical performance.   It was great having her here!

And yet, I am unable to shake a fuzz in my brain, a drip, drip, drip of discontent. I am weary and wary.   I cannot believe what has been going on these past days and like you, I’m trying to make sense of it.  How do you make sense of a senseless situation, though?  I question EVERYTHING I hear, read - I don’t know.  I feel like I am floating a bit, numb.  I am spiritually, emotionally, physically and politically drained.    I typically feel pretty confident, pretty firm-footed.  These days have hit me hard and I just don’t know.  I am wearing my fear, my doubt, the near unbearable sorrow, like clothes that don’t belong to me, don’t fit.

I am uncomfortable. 

But, we can do this.  We are better than these days. Give me a minute to plant my foot, to dress again in my truth, my understanding, my joy.  You do the same, okay?