I’m being evicted. By my husband.
The Cabana Boy has decreed that I shall take my laptop and some things and take myself hence from these premises–for the weekend.
The laptop is because I’m heavy into editing my urban fantasy. The things are because my sister is a good conservationist and keeps her thermostat low so I need layers. Lots of layers. The going away is because my house will be in a state of demolition this weekend and the man seems to think I might micromanage the whole deal. ME. Can you believe it?!?!?!
(Apparently all my children can. They’ve snickered about it a good deal. “No! Momma…how can you SAY such a thing?’ delivered with sarcasm gravy…)
The house is 100 years old or more, and it’s had a number of add-ons over the years, some more well done than others. A couple of the walls are actually starting to crumble inside and the Cabana Boy decided as long as he was sending me away he’d tear those down and put in insulation (a novelty in this house) and new drywall. But the real mess will be the new set of kitchen windows the contractor’s putting in. The old ones actually started raining inside the frames this summer, and we finally decided it was time. I can’t wait to see what he’s going to find when he pops that window out….oh wait. I won’t get to see it. I won’t be here. :)
The children will stay, not particularly affected by either of these procedures other than their dad lets them help. Little Miss remembered with glee when her father did the same thing on the stairwell wall this summer– “Papa gave me a hammer and I made a hole in the wall and it fell down! Then he and Will made a new one!” So they can all process their frustration and hopefully get at least some of it cleaned up before I get back. I’ll cross my fingers anyway.
So I will get a few days of adult company over in Ohio and rumour has it we might even hit the new Waffle House! (It’s the sticks here, my friends…it doesn’t take much to get us excited.)
Then we’ll get the painting done and finish the preparations for moving the office over. I’m to that stage where I’m over the panic about the move happening and on to JUST WANTING IT DONE. (Especially the longer I watch the economic forecasts.) Better to spend time in my fantasy in the backwoods of Montana being chased by bloodthirsty elves. These ain’t your sweet Keebler bakers, my friends.*
*note to self: Quit watching McCain talk at debates!