It's Sunday morning at 8:16 and I'm lying in bed blogging. I went to bed around 10 last night. That's 10 full hours of sleep and I needed it!
I have moved 4 times in the last 7 years. This takes Attention Deficit to a whole new plain. Please. . . . everyone. If you hear me even mention the idea of moving again you have my permission to throw me to the ground, beat me senseless and withhold chocolate until I come to my senses.
I am no spring chicken as it turns out. I think I'm the only person at 5 Star Health and Fitness who works out religiously 6 times per week. I probably should have my head examined for that alone. But then to mount the toting and sorting and shopping and disposing of, and deciding and kvetching that goes along with settling into a place that has room for about half of what is left in my life. Well. . . . "what was I thinking?" comes to mind.
Not that I'd do anything any differently. I LOVE my house. And armed with new strategies from my photographer-on-call I do plan to post some pictures in the near future. But let's wait for the kinks to be worked out. Might as well see the legitimate "after" pictures. I don't want any afters after this after. . . if you catch my drift.
This project has been pretty seamless in its execution. Almost no snags in the works. Now that I'm living here, there are still only two major debacles to be sorted out. One of my own making, and one not. I guess that's not too bad given everything I've heard from other people with building projects.
Debacle number 1 - the kitchen island counter top. NOT MY FAULT! Although Lowes (who I have loved working with in all respects except this one) tried very hard to pin this one on me. However, little by little they are coming around to the truth. And hopefully the counter top will arrive eventually once it's made the way it was ordered and paid for. A very nice man named Kevin is over there at Lowes giving it all he's got on my behalf. Oddly enough, the counter top company is named 5 Star! At this point I would kidnap a couple of their stars until I am satisfied.
Debacle #2 is the beloved and expensive bath tub. Oh my lessons are sometimes hard to learn. Here I was indulging in a bit of decadence when, as a lifestyle choice, I don't even believe in decadence. But nevertheless I scrimped on the floors and cabinets and fixtures and everything else to provide myself with a beautiful bathtub with a TV on the wall to watch. Never mind that I don't even watch TV now and I'm not even sure once this waterproof TV arrives that I'm even going to hook it up. But back to the bathtub. Caveat: Maybe you shouldn't order a bathtub online. Not that I didn't get great service, personal phone calls from the company, and arrival right on time (are you listening 5 Star Countertop Making guys?). And the bathtub is beautiful. Looks EXACTLY like the pictures. Fits EXACTLY into the space we left for it.
So the second day in the house I was DETERMINED to take a bath. Never mind that the new well was still spitting out bits of dirt. Heck, I'd swam in a lake before. How could this be different? What I had not counted on was how deep the tub was, and how much the fancy schmancy faucet they had sent actually encroached on the tub space itself. And the tankless hot water heater was just revving up and didn't like the grit in the water so was not producing the amount of water needed. I will spare you the sordid details, but let's just say I found myself in my birthday suit, submerged in a tub (and submerged is optimistic because there was, at best 3 inches of water) that was cooling off rapidly, very very slippery, very very deep, and the faucet made it impossible for me to get my weight distributed so that my arms, which are actually very muscular could lift my dead weight out of the tub. I was pretty much stuck in a slippery death trap with no way out. If the image of "I've fallen and I can't get up" is springing to your mind, I can't argue with that. So, with an enormous amount of mental energy spent flowing between becoming hysterical with panic and laughing uproariously at the predicament, I eventually arrived on the rug outside the tub, very thankful to not be injured. Not exactly the halcyon bath experience I had been hoping for. I dried myself off, renamed the tub "El Diablo" and vowed not to darken it's murky depths ever again or at least until I solved the problem. The next time Duncan the Builder came over I brought up the situation (I did NOT regale him with a re-enactment). We have decided that this is a multi-step process. 1. Get rid of the damn faucet that takes up too much room. Never mind that it is non-returnable and cost nearly $200. Get a basic kitchen faucet with a spout that will pivot out of the way. 2. Get the tape for the bottom of the tub that provides traction. Might put it on the rim of the tub as well. I'm an old lady. I get these services without being disparaged! 3. Consider putting the tub on a platform to raise it up a bit which will allow me to actually see out the windows that I insisted on having so that I could see out the windows. As it is, when I'm in there, I can only see sky. Which is probably a good place to be looking for one's last vision of life on earth.
So for the time being. . .no more baths in El Diablo. But he's nice to look at. Notice how now that the tub is evil, it has become a man. That is so wrong.
The good news is that I love my shower. I have not liked any shower facility I have had in the last 5 houses. Now I have a nice big, friendly, full of light, room to dry off, warm, lovely shower. SHE is lovely and will keep me clean until the bathtub recovers from his sex-change operation.
So. . . . island counter. . . bathtub. It's their fault that you're not getting pictures. It's 10 after 9, I think I'll get out of bed!
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