From recent posts, you may know that we were one small project away from having our entire home restoration completed. Three years of hard work and we had the hall and foyer to paint and then we'd have the whole shebang complete. And I even tempted fate by remarking that I couldn't believe that we were almost finally done. That's when a plumbing pipe went haywire and flooded under our hardwood. What a mess-o-rama.
Even still, we left town on our trip and tried to keep stiff upper lips. Convinced that everything was under control, we covered the holes where flooring used to be with plastic and tried to convince ourselves that our house smelling like a cave was somehow a fun twist. Why, we love cave tours! We were one gift shop short of denial.
A couple of days after returning from Alaska, we found out that we had worse problems. A pipe had also burst inside of our concrete foundation. Five days later, and several consultations with the pros and we're still not completely sure where the busted pipe is. Approximations tell us that part of our floor will definitely have to be jackhammered up. Oh yes, church. Our kitchen cabinets have to be removed and there might be some trenches dug in our kitchen, sunporch and our recently (finally) finished bathroom floor. This is a major big deal. Trenches in the house. When the plumber mentioned ever-so-casually that the tub might need to be removed, I went into some kind of self preservation mode where I could only rock on my heels, clutch my ponytail and imagine showers at truck stops. "They usually have a Subway sandwich shop inside!" I reasoned to make myself feel better about my impending foot fungus after realizing that I don't own shower shoes.
We're trying to figure out if we'll be able to live here while this is happening. With four kitties and my asthmatic nature, it sounds like Hell on Earth. And don't even get me started on what a neat freak I am. Dust of any nature and specifically of the construction kind makes me crazier than a rat in a coffee can. I can go from docile to postal in the flip of a switch if I think that fine dust is in the air. I woke up around four this morning and started obsessively worrying about a bright blue porta-potty being installed in our yard.
Another twist is that though concrete slab foundations are very common in some places, they're not in Tennessee. People just don't encase their plumbing in concrete here. And they're quick to tell us so. Contractors and repair people look at us either with pity or that tell-tale gleam in their eyes that means they think they're about to be able to afford a Summer home.
That said, when I saw the following video shared this morning by two of my favorite buckaroos, Karen and Jon, I really needed it. Not only for the amazing fascinating wonderfulness that takes place after the one minute and fifteen second mark but because yes, we truly do "gotta get out of this place".
Until next time,
x's and o's,