Weekend Journal

I’ve left Steve to paint the ceiling in the kitchen by himself. I’m rather guilty for not joining him, but I’m too tired to pick up a roller. I see the light under the boys’ door. Jonah is on the top bunk reading his Calvin and Hobbes book for the third time. I’ll have to give him "lights out" notice soon. But let me write a quick blog post first.

The workers have been here for a month now. I’m so ready for all this to be over. It’s like I’m nine months pregnant again praying for labor pains. The drywall is up. Monday, the floor guys will be here. On Thursday, the cabinets will arrive. On Friday, the appliances. Two more weeks, they tell me. Will I survive?

We’re still living on Trader Joe’s in the microwave and my mom’s leftovers. We left her house tonight with a mountain of spaghetti and meatballs. Enough for three days. We just need to wash the lettuce in the bathroom sink upstairs.

The contractor and his crew were amusing enough during the first week. Now, I’m just sick of them. They’ve made themselves quite at home here. They store their beer in our fridge, put their CDs on our stereo, eat at my dining room table. I came from work on Friday to find four guys drinking beer in my dining room. They popped open a beer for me, and we all chatted for a while. Usually, I’m up for a good party, but this has gone on long enough.

I’m very puzzled by the world of contractors. And they are puzzled by me. I don’t understand why the plumbers say that they will show up on Tuesday and then don’t come by until Friday. They were shocked that we are painting the kitchen ourselves and that I vacuumed up the dust that snuck under the plastic barriers myself. They thought I should farm out that the housework and the painting to others, because it was beneath me. They don’t believe that Steve does the laundry. I guess that work is beneath him, but not me. They don’t understand why I work on the weekends.

The boys are getting tired of being dragged around to Home Depot and Lowe’s looking for accessories. A kitchen sink, a bathroom vanity, toilet paper holders. If I had to buy just one thing, I would research it on the web and scan magazines for ideas. One item would be fun. But we’re burned out. We just don’t give a crap anymore.

We took the kids for dinner at the mall on Saturday and then hit Home Depot Expo to look for faucets. It was eight in the evening by that point. Ian was falling asleep in Steve’s arms, and we couldn’t make a decision.

I will never, EVER, do this again.

The light under the boys’ bedroom has gone out. Jonah must have fallen asleep. My turn.