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.