So, I told you last week that the five of us have moved down into our basement, since we can’t walk on our floors.
The floors are being sanded and refinished upstairs, and the first few days were easy peezy.
We tried to stay away from home as much as possible, so that our forced togetherness wouldn’t be such a big deal. The smells weren’t so bad – it was mostly sawdust flying through the air as things got sanded and stuff.
Friday (day 3) rolled around, and one of the guys surprises me with, “Hey, we’ll be out of your way and all done with the floors by 2 pm. You can walk on them by 6.”
What? What miracle is this, that this is happening 3 days earlier than expected? It was great and unexpected news.
And then he says to me – at 4 pm, cuz yeah, he’s still there – “Someone will be here tomorrow to do the next stage. Or maybe Monday. I’m not sure when they’re scheduled.” Uh, exsqueeze me? What happened to getting out of here and being done?! You surprise and delight me, and then pull the rug out?
So we hit the hay in the lower level for another night, thinking, “Ok, so we’ve got another night to go. No biggie.”
Now, these guys have been arriving around 8:30 each morning during the week. What time do you suppose they show up on Saturday morning (after a late night of hanging out with friends for us, mind you)? Seven freaking o’clock. My Sadie-bug is not a girl who does well without her sleep, so this is not welcome news, especially when they break out the sanders.
And then the stink of the chemicals wafts down the stairs, permeating my very pores, soaking into my hair follicles, and making me cringe.
But I’m getting pretty new floors, so it’s cool. I’m good with it. It’s one more day. I can do anything for one more day.
And then! More news: they’ll be back on Monday AND Tuesday to finish the job. Gah! Days more of living like gypsies, tiptoeing around in the morning so as not to disturb my slumbering babes while we share a space.
But yes, I’m getting pretty new floors. So I can do this. Let’s do this thing. It’s 90 degrees outside. We’ll just hang out in the sunshine, then come inside to cool down.
And then! Our air conditioner decides that it’s simply had enough. It’s done cooling us. Caput. It’s put in 9 summers, and that’s all she wrote. So now we’re sweating it out together in our basement lair.
It’s a good thing we love one another, and we don’t mind having a giant slumber party with no end in sight. 😉
Since it’s hot, you might just find me in this off the shoulder top on repeat this summer. Find it online here, or at the Wild Ruffle shop!
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