Well, it’s Saturday morning at 8 a.m. Now that the bathroom is on hold, Paul is outside sawzalling the side porch. I’ve never met anyone else who wakes up on a Saturday, puts on work clothes. And runs outside. To saw stuff.
I didn’t even try to stop him. I could have, but then he would have been irritated. And Paul does irritation like you would not believe. And never more so than when prevented from demolitioning something, or building something, or fixing something. All while being incredibly loud.
Sorry neighbors. In the face-off between your peace, and mine? Mine wins.
This is the second bath we’ve done in this house. I thought it would be easier. But if anything, it’s more stressful. Mostly because it’s in the second floor hallway. And so the mess, and construction, and ladders, and compressors, and piles of tools, and slabs of sheetrock, and sink tops, and supplies, and spackle buckets, and general crap… are all directly outside our bedroom and the laundry room. And you have to walk through/around it all to do anything on the second floor.
Plus it’s migrating—the general mess and piles of construction have long since moved to the guest room. And now the foyer is being invaded as well…
Also, it’s dragging on. And on. And on. And on. This is partly our (my) fault. I should really be dealing with the wompy sink legs. Or finalizing fixtures. Or going back to the stone yard (for the third time,) to get the marble shelf. Or going to yet another tile store… instead I’m writing this. And rearranging the perennials. And expanding the shade garden. And scouring Craigslist for free flagstone to finish my path to nowhere. And wondering if I should go back to Nordstrom to get this jacket in blue… I think I should.
The other night I came home. I went in the kitchen. And directly over my head, Paul said—hi.
Because now that the subfloor in the bathroom is gone… you only have to put your foot through the kitchen ceiling once, to give yourself an entirely new sheetrock project.