Stress & Chaos In The House Of Dust
Somehow, probably on Sunday during the Great Move Out, I pulled a muscle in my neck. By the evening of Day 2, I could barely turn my head. I’d slept on my heating pad to help alleviate the pain. Yes, I know, you’re not supposed to sleep on it, nor run it continually. Yeah, well I did. I felt better on the morning of Day 3 because I did. That relief was to be short-lived.
Apparently, SD 1 & SD 2 have managed to hoodwink the College Station Caregivers into feeding them only the canned food, no kibble. To be fair, I know how this can happen as I often give in myself. I told them let’s go back to the original feeding plan, and if the Spoiled Dogs don’t eat, well, they won’t starve. Might even be a little more appreciative of what they get at home. Pretty sure they thought that we’d abandoned them and weren’t ever coming back.
Day 3 also made me realize that I’m a horrible housekeeper. Nothing like The Hubs texting pictures of what was under and on the side of the stove to be humbled. It’s also why I’m going to start searching for a housekeeper who will once a month move and clean under and by the stove. The worst part? I don’t cook enough to justify that kind of filth! Seriously humbling. It didn’t help that we also realized our builder didn’t put in an emergency cut off valve for the gas stove, too.
Back to the project. The crew had finished removing the tile in the kitchen, the pantry/laundry room and the powder room. Now it was time to start grinding. They got about ¼ of the family room done, only to realize that they had the wrong discs for the job. Wonderful. I knew there would be challenges, but this was driving me crazy! I just wanted it finished. They were already a day behind since they didn’t start on time. My very limited patience was being tested.
When I arrived home, I couldn’t park in our garage. Stella’s parking spot was now occupied by a washer, a dryer and a toilet. Nice. We look really redneck during this process! When I got into the house, it was evident the polishing & grinding had started. There was even more dust. And a sludge of wet cement. The Hubs was still working, so I headed upstairs, took off my work clothes, turned on the heating pad and climbed into bed. About two hours later, The Hubs roused me enough to ask what I wanted to do for dinner. What I wanted to do for dinner was stay in bed, take a heavy duty sleeping pill and wake up when this was all over. However, I needed to be considerate of The Hubs and his needs. So, I dragged myself reluctantly out of bed, less than eager to face the outside world again.
Now, I must admit, one of the bonuses of this whole process meant that I didn’t have to cook. There was nowhere to cook, let alone sit down and eat. Pretty sure the Surgeon General would issue caution about consumption of food with a high concrete dust level. In hindsight, I’ve grown very tired of eating in restaurants. It means I must get dressed and look presentable. I just want to sit home, in my leggings and baggy t-shirt, no bra, not caring what my hair or makeup looks like. But no, there is nowhere for us to eat at home right now, so out we must go. However, the bonus of going out means that I can have booze. Last night’s white cosmo made me have a better appreciation for people who drink. I get it. I really do. It certainly took a little bit of the edge off my stress level. Just enough that I was at least willing to return home for the evening.
Once dinner was finished, we returned to the House of Dust, ready to rest in preparation for Day 4.
The Stark Truth 