We did it! Or, to be precise, we’re doing it right at the moment this post is being published.
Wait; get that look off your face! We’re not ‘doing it’; we’re doing ‘IT’: That is, moving into our finally-at-last-thank-God-could-it-possibly-have-taken-ANY-BLOODY-LONGER?!? much-anticipated and mostly-complete second floor (we still have to hang doors and do some finish carpentry). As of 9:00 this morning, the movers are hauling all my office, fitness, sewing, and art equipment, along with Hubby’s N-scale model train layout and all his astronomy gear, out of the garage and into its final home upstairs.
Are we relieved? OH HELL YES!!!
Are we still sane?
Not even close.
Our intellectual capacity has diminished to the point where we can’t retain even the most basic snippets of information for more than ten seconds. Our most frequent conversation for the past couple of weeks has been:
“What about (fill in construction question)?”
“Are you really asking me that?!? I just told you half an hour ago!”
“You did not.”
I’d love to say that it’s all Hubby’s fault because he never listens to me; but I’m not quite sure how that would explain the fact that I’ve done exactly the same thing. ’Cause I always listen to him. (Hubby, stop laughing.) Maybe we’re simultaneously developing acute dementia caused by paint fumes.
I’m so brain-dead I can’t even feed myself. When the building inspector departed after giving us a passing grade on our final inspection, I allowed myself a celebratory Lindt truffle (or maybe several; but I’ll only admit to one). They’re one of my favourite indulgences: An oh-so-smooth-and-delicious soft chocolate centre enclosed in a chocolate sphere and wrapped in pretty foil.
So I peeled off the foil and put it into my mouth. The foil, not the chocolate. Seriously; if I had to take a mental competence test right now, they’d lock me up so fast I wouldn’t even have time to yell, “Hey, where’s my truffle?”
I’ve also developed an unnerving tendency to forget where I’m going and why; resulting in a scenario where I stop in my tracks, thump my forehead, and mutter, “Come on, brain, you can do this.” (For the record: It can’t.)
But I can hardly wait to unpack and settle into a period of blissful normalcy… at least until our budget recovers enough that we can afford to install flooring up there instead of the painted plywood we have now. Then the renovation insanity will begin all over again; but we’re both so heartily sick of construction that there’s an excellent chance we’ll put off installing flooring for another ten years. Maybe longer.
Or maybe we’ll just wait until the trauma fades; which, given the current state of my short-term memory, could be as early as next week.
Anyhow, I’m looking forward to resuming my life now that I no longer have to spend every spare moment either thinking about or doing construction. We’re done! HOORAY!!!
*does happy dance*
And in other news… I just hit the halfway point on Book 13 – woohoo! Now I’m looking forward to having some quality time to bomb ahead with it.
*does another happy dance*