Hangries & Stress
The new grinding discs the crew arrived with were apparently working extremely well, based on the pictures The Hubs sent me. I tried very hard not to notice the layers, that’s plural, of dust everywhere. Don’t even get me started on the splashes of concrete slurry in places that I find surprising. Has this process been messy? You betcha! And Lord Almighty, these folks, bless their hearts, got concrete slurry on their hands, and then everywhere they touched – walls, doors, doorjambs, countertops. It was like the concrete version of giving a toddler finger paints and turning them loose, unsupervised, in your home. I kept reminding myself that they had lined up a cleaning person to take care of this. I just hoped she was up to the task, because I was starting to think that we had agreed to go for some weird, post-modern “concrete splotches” decorator look.
Dinner time again, bringing the joyous fun of figuring out where to eat. Someone really needs to start a restaurant near us called I Don’t Know & I Don’t Care. Pretty sure if they had a good selection, they would do a bang-up business! The Hubs found a place in Georgetown that sounded like down home cooking. I was up for it. I was beyond bored with our usual sit-down places, and The Hubs was soundly against fast food. When we found the place, it became rapidly apparent that I was suffering from an incredible case of The Hangries. You know, that point where you’re so hungry and just really a wicked evil person? Yeah. That was me. We were going to have to park at the bottom of a hill in a section of the city that looked suspiciously like it was trying to be one of those all-encompassing eat/work/live places. I was in flip-flops. I hadn’t eaten in 8 hours. I had zero desire or inclination to walk up a hill to a restaurant that was an unknown. Nope. Not gonna happen. We found another place closer to home, I had a hard cider, some food and slowly, my somewhat personable disposition returned. Pretty sure at this point that The Hubs was wondering if, on some level, he could do away with me and make it look like an accident. I was not pleasant to be around. It’s not something I’m proud of. And every time I was super bitchy, I was aware of it, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was bad.
We made it through Day 4, just barely, and the end was finally in sight.
The Stark Truth 