The Bay Area's giant batten-down-the-hatches storm has hit this morning. The kids and I sat on my bed, looking out the windows no longer covered by plastic painting cover and watched it go from grey, to windy, to rainy in minutes. This is the day to be lazy, run the fireplace, bake cookies, and sip hot chocolate. Instead, with sore throats and colds, we left the house in the rain and dark early to clear out as the workers arrived.
Our rain jackets are packed away, umbrellas are somewhere deep in the garage, and we have no privacy. If one of us gets really sick, we're screwed. Between the door trim work and house painters, the place is full of people. Both rooms we're using are covered in plastic. There is no cuddling up under covers while watching Mad Men. There is certainly no baking. And if someone gets the flu, we'll all know because the one semi-functioning bathroom (still no sink) doesn't have a way to close the door completely. Also, there's no door knob, giving everyone a window into the bathroom regardless of if the door is closed. Today, Rocket used the open door knob space as a megaphone to yell a question at me while I was in the shower. "WHERE IS DAD?" We only have two rooms. Asking the question took more time than looking for him.
I can't look at Pinterest, magazines, or sometimes even Facebook because seeing all of the warm scenes of decorated trees and mantles is frustrating. The house will be amazing, but it's sad that the best time of year is getting taken out by it. I went outside to plug in lights for one tree outside of the remodel area, only to realize we don't have any exterior outlets ready to use. We will not be denied all of Christmas, I decided, and bought solar Christmas lights, despite the price. $80 for some normalcy, I justified.
The fun is over. Really, it was never fun. I should say the tolerance is over.
We have piles of sawdust so mountainous, the kids called it sawdust snow.
Everything is covered in white power from the drywall. Enough that I regret not printing a warning in our Christmas cards that if your card contains powder, not to fear, it is not anthrax, nor should it be snorted.
We are a mess. When the physical part of the project began, it was summer and we thought it would be complete by this time. No worries about winter clothes or shoes. Everything will be unpacked by then.
I'd show pictures, but my card reader died. I bought a new one, but it's lost under plastic wrap somewhere. Just like everything else.