Our house has been invaded. Third floor to basement, inside and out, from 8 am to 7 pm every day of the week.
It all started with the porch project. This was one of those big plans we had when we first bought the house (exactly two years ago) but put on hold until we sold the other house (exactly three months ago). We happen to live on a lot and a half, which gives us an extra large side yard, most of which we’ve decided to turn into a huge Victorian-style porch that comes off our kitchen, without losing any of the play space in the backyard. We laid the foundation last fall and then began in earnest this spring. It’s almost finished and spectacularly gorgeous and I promise we’ll invite you all over for a drink one of these fabulous summer evenings.
We’ve also long planned to paint the exterior of the house this summer, which starts on Monday. And Mark and I are actively re-landscaping the front, shoveling an awful lot of dirt on these fabulous summer evenings (instead of enjoying a cool drink with friends on that lovely porch).
There were a few windows that had yet to be replaced, so that’s been happening this week, with a crew of five guys, who are very pleasant but reek of cigarette smoke, traipsing in and out all day long, upstairs, downstairs, in between. Which is just great when Braedan starts randomly opening doors as I’m changing my clothes and — lo and behold — there just happens to be a strange man on a ladder outside the window. Great.
I’m sure our neighbors love us!
And since the invasion was already underway, we decided to do it all at once (and get it over with) and tackle our master suite renovation. Demolition started last week and we are now sequestered to the front half of the upstairs, having lost access to our bathroom, three closets and two small bedrooms.
And the someday master closet …
It really will be lovely, I swear.
Now I’m not complaining or anything (am I?) because I know I am extremely lucky to be able to do all this and we are very very excited for the end product, which will basically be our dream house. But it is a little hard to feel so invaded (especially when I’ve been caring for sick kids). The guy who is doing our indoor renovation is also the guy who is building our porch and happens to be a friend of ours. The second day of demo, as I balked at the temporary walls he was constructing to contain the dust and debris, he kindly said, “Listen, this is your house. You have to tell me if something isn’t okay and if you want it done another way.”
“Well, sure,” I replied, “except that there’s no other way to do this. What should I tell you? Finish tomorrow and get on outta here?”
No, can’t do that. Instead we’re the ones who’re gonna get on outta here.
More from the road ….