>Remodeling the old Homestead: when the trivial becomes overwhelming


Coping has its limits. Sometimes, too much happens and something has to blow. What was the proverbial straw that broke our camel’s back? There are many; you choose.
The dust upstairs was so bad that we couldn’t sleep in our room. Chuck slept on the couch in the den, and I slept on La Petite’s futon, dragged into the living room. Why did we drag it out? Because I snore.

I was feeling under the weather (due to lost sleep perhaps?) with a bad summer cold, achiness, and all-over lousiness. I couldn’t find the Neti Pot because we have two bathrooms’ junk crowded into one vanity and medicine cabinet.
Chuck was feeling ill because of the dust. He took to wearing a surgical mask around the house to limit the amount of dust he inhaled. It did make a difference; he got better.

La Petite, after she finally moved back into her bedroom, couldn’t find anything. She emptied the laundry baskets and suitcases, put all of her clothing in her closet and dresser, and then nothing was where she thought it was.

Amigo tripped on a door and injured his right big toe. I think he caught it on the doorknob or the latch.

Huh? What? He tripped on a door? The doorknob or latch? That doesn’t make sense. Doorknobs and toes?

No, nothing makes sense right now unless you have it in context. All three bunnies live with us. Krumpet lives in Amigo’s room, Buttercup in the living room, and Sadie in the den. The den doesn’t have a door. The entrance is too large for a gate or standard door – at least a standard door in the standard position.

I hear you. “Ah, now it makes sense, Daisy. Why didn’t you start with that picture?” Honestly? I couldn’t find the camera. It was mixed up in the graduation party invitations. Does that make sense? No, don’t answer that.
We will love the results. However, we are so, so ready for this project to be done, done, done! I don’t know how much longer our collective sense of humor will drag us through.

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