Today’s post is short- ’cause so’s my patience.
You see, we’re living in, on, and directly underneath a demolition zone.
A cutting board across a washing machine is my Barbie Dream House of a kitchen, complete with the whole thing where we step over tools and cat supplies. (Oh, and that’s where the hose is hooked up, too, to continue draining the basement boiler. That last part is especially new. But no less fun!)
I combed construction dust out of Jasper’s hair two nights ago- and this was immediately after his bath.
We have three doorways: one is covered in plastic halfway up the stairs, the other is frequently draped in plastic (and leads to a room which is also inaccessible from the rest of the house- and that’s where we have the fridge plugged in, ha HA), and the third is fully working…but is on the second floor and connects to a deck with no actual floor yet. It’s like living in an M.C. Escher lithograph. (But smellier.)
And we’ve discovered no fewer than four patterns and styles of flooring under the one we had decided to demo. One is pink subway tile. Another is all tiny laminate squares. Underneath it all is- maddeningly- a very nice hardwood floor that is now cemented and nail-gunned into oblivion. (Is that the reason these ceilings feel so low? Because people have been layering up and up since the 1910s? Stoppit.)
But I think it all might be worth it.
Because in just one short(ish) week, we’ve gone from the picture on the left to the picture on the right.
And damn, that’s a pretty good reminder that this, the project for which we’ve saved and stressed (and pretty much the first one that’s cosmetically wonderful and not structurally necessary and/or panic-inducing), is going to be pretty nice.
(She types as she brushes dirt from her keyboard.)
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