I mowed for five hours yesterday. The “lawn” and fields have looked pathetic with long, scraggly grass and weeds. They are covered with hay mulch now and don’t look much better. However it was relaxing to mow (how wonderful to accomplish something big without having to make a decision!) and I am pleased — in years past I paid for hay to enrich my poor soil — and feel satisfied to have put a first stake in the ground to move us toward tidiness. Outdoor tidiness, at least.
Indoors continues to look like the aftermath of a shipwreck. There is not a single room that reflects order or normalcy. In the basement, dehumidifier, fans, and heaters are roaring. Upstairs, leaning stacks of opened, disheveled moving boxes are everywhere, plus construction materials. Books are piled across the living room between rolled rugs. A mountain of clothes are dumped on our bed. Furniture stands away from the walls until trim can be installed. The floors are covered with brown paper and cardboard, now dirty and ripped. The open construction stairs are gritty with sheetrock dust. All of this is what I should have worked on yesterday. However I had no heart for it. Looking at the sea of mess it is difficult to know where to begin.
I thought I would start by building the pantry so I could put food and appliances away in the kitchen. There is not a working light in that walk-in closet, but I dug out a headlamp. I removed a dozen boxes stacked against the walls. I found my drill and my shelf brackets. I’d bought a new stud finder (my old one is buried somewhere in the garage) and had my shelf boards ready to cut to length.
Oops, the stud finder requires a 9V battery. In yesterday’s exhaustion, that setback was enough to end my effort.
I did figure out what was wrong with the dishwasher. The water valve had never been opened. (I prayed I had not burned up the new unit by operating it without water, but so far it seems OK.) Unfortunately now I have to unload it, which means making decisions about where everything will be put away. To complicate matters, during the flood Lucy and Amy unpacked wet items into the cabinets, which means before I can unload the dishwasher I must first unpack the cabinets of this random stuff (earthenware bowls for forcing bulbs, anyone?). To unpack the cabinets I will have to clear at least a section of the jumbled, stacked counters. To clear the stacked counters it would be helpful to have pantry shelves.
Every task seems to require multiple steps to accomplish. So much easier, yesterday, to mow!
However, today I must face it.
It is going to be humiliating to have the workmen walking through all my spaces when everything is such a hopeless, messy, vulnerable disaster. Just the thought makes me shrivel.
Buckle up, buttercup! I tell myself sternly. You don’t have time for useless emotion. Besides, at a certain level all of this is their fault. The house was supposed to be finished June 30.
On that note, today I have to call my mortgage officer. It is evident to me that there is no way we can meet even the extended deadline for an appraisal (July 15). I don’t know what this will mean and I am too tired to speculate. But I assume it will not be good news.
Sufficient unto the day are the worries thereof. Apart from dealing with the bank and the insurance company, today I am going to try to focus my energy on the kitchen. I’ll start by buying a 9V battery when I take the dogs to be safe at the vet.