We're only about a fourth of the way into the sausage making, but I'm already thinking that instead of trying to fix this place up we might have been better off tossing a lit match inside and driving away. This shit sucks. And it's not like we're gutting the place and getting all fancy, we're just repairing floors, ceilings and a bathroom that was undamaged by all of this but is so offensively ugly that it simply must be done to keep the neighborhood, and perhaps world, peace. Part of the problem is that we're dealing with a bit of a damaged product in the first place. JHP and I weren't exactly seasoned homeowners when we bought this house - we'd moved from DC where we'd both rented for years and years on account of the fact that you'd have to sell an organ (or play one really well, if you know what I mean..wink wink, nudge nudge) to buy a place there, so needless to say we didn't exactly know what to look for when it came time to own something. Our solution to house problems was to call the landlord and then leave while it got fixed...talk about rubes. The previous owners of our current home - we'll call them the Smiths because that's their name and I am speaking truth to power, children! - saw us coming from a country mile away. That pretty hall mirror? Covering up a giant hole in the plaster. And isn't that bathroom lovely until you turn on the shower and realize the tub was "reglazed" with house paint that bubbled up the minute it got wet. The gas stove in the kitchen had to be lit by hand which made cooking an activity you had a 30% chance of dying from. We caught none of this until we were all moved in. In a way it ended up being good that the Smiths were so half-assed; because they didn't insulate the kitchen floor/basement ceiling when they renovated the playroom, it didn't collapse when the ice machine flooded. No heavy, wet fiberglass insulation = nothing to pull the drywall down. Let's forget for a moment that the lack of insulation also means that it's so cold you can hang meat down there and for once just thank the Smiths for being all Smithy McSmitherson about it.
I have dreamt lo these many years of having a kitchen island in my dining room. In unrelated news I rule at Mastermind
It's been really annoying. At least for me; as usual JHP has been traveling so he's missed most of the fun, and the girls think all of this is just great. AD loves the novelty of having the refrigerator in the hallway and the RM just loves having the renovation guys around. I worry, as always, about her taste because that is one sketchy crew; I don't even know how to describe them, but I probably don't need to because we've all seen "Deliverance". They seem quite nice but a bit rough around the edges. Tooth deficient, one might say. One of them only has part of an arm so it's been an almost uncontrollable compulsion of AD to refer to him as our "non-handy man"; the RM just calls them "the fixers", and she stalks them all. "The fixers have NEVER seen an outfit as princess as the one I have on now, have they? NO! It is true that they have not. I must go show." To their credit they're very patient with her, if not perhaps too indulgent - I caught Lloyd teaching her how to use a ball-peen hammer, and Saturday morning I found her sitting on the front steps with Curtis while he simultaneously chain smoked, ate a hot dog and told her all about Vietnam. These poor men have had the misfortune of their work here falling on the RM's birthday so they've also had to endlessly assure her that yes, she's suuuuch a big girl. "Terry. Let's you listen to me. Today I opened that straw wrap BY. MYSELF. Babies can't do that, only big girls can do that, right? You know this? I couldn't do that when I was three but now I'm four so I'm very big also call me Berle today. I will help you PAINT." I also heard through a third party that she was trying to get Levon to teach her how to drive the trailer and dip Skoal Wintergreen.
Because this process isn't irritating enough, we decided that next week we'll flee the scene and take the girls to the one place on earth that has more noise, trans fats and rednecks (and I'm only referring to my immediate family) than our house - Disney World. I've gotten to the point where I am willing to leave all this work unsupervised and risk exposing myself to the possibility of one of the fixers rifling through my stuff as long as I can just get out of here. Hell, if they promise to come in on budget I'll even personally pick out the underwear they can sniff and go ahead and pack up the televisions for theft. I'm actually really excited for Disney World, and not just because we'll be away from this dustbowl - it's one of AD's favorite spots, and there's no question of how the RM will feel about it. Plus Dad and Cslos are joining us, which adds a whole different level of excitement. The RM's never been, at least not out of captivity. The last time we went I was five months pregnant with her and the temperatures were over 100 degrees every day. Heavy sweating was in order, and we even saw one poor girl faint dead away which AD attributed to the fact that "she probably couldn't believe how cute I am." What an idiot - it was totally because of how cute I am. She was pretty damn cute though.
So, do you think you made the right move, leaving your appreciative and supportive gay roommates to move in with a shallow, impulsive necrophiliac? I'm just asking.
The RM has been talking about the trip nonstop, and I'm a bit concerned about how her behavior will be, um, interpreted. Yesterday morning for example I was dressing her for school, and as we're putting on her princess print underwear she tells me "Mom. Mom. Mom. I can't wait to tell Cinderella I'm wearing her panties. She'll be so happy at me that I'm IN her PANTIES!" Let's hope Cinderella speaks Menace. Aside from that I think it's going to be fantastic, if not a little melancholy; this will be our first big family trip without Mom. On the upside, she never did like going to Disney World all that much - Cslos and I were joking about how damn if that woman really would, clearly, do anything to get out of going back.
She will be dearly missed but we're looking forward to making good new memories. I'm just glad I won't be here to somehow stumble upon the memory of Curtis and his eight teeth wearing my bra. I don't judge - just get the tile down already.