It’s nearly 2am and I have to get up in less than 5 hours to take the kids to school. I’ve spent the last three hours in a heated argument with my constructor. Admittedly he is not actually here. It’s just me, alone, tossing and turning in my bed.
We are on the fifth month of what was scheduled to be a three month renovation project. This after a four month delay due to landmarks and burocratic red tape just to get the permits.
You know how they say the most stressful things in life are the death of family member, divorce or a move/construction? Well, I’m not quite ready to kill off a family member, but I’m just about ready to consider giving up my marriage if it gets the damn house finished.
The backyard is a war zone filled with construction materials and torture machines whose sole purpose -of this I am sure- is to torture my soul. It has also become “Hotel Royale” for mosquitoes in the neighbourhood who hang out in the piled up rain water, and come inside the house in the evening for some mediterranean dinner, aka me. The guest room is a dumping ground for cloth covered corpses and other construction materials. Which means my guest arriving Saturday will have no room to sleep in and no bed, as the sofa bed remains in it's original box under all the other stuff that is supposed to go in that room. Which, come to think of it, is probably fine since we are still waiting for the bathroom permits.
The floor paint in my office and bedroom floor keeps getting stuck to the furniture and peeling off when we move anything around. They claim they used the right paint and its just us. I mean, how irrational of us to expect to be able to have things such as chairs AND move it around INSIDE the house. So at some point we will have to move out of our bedroom and I will have to transfer my office so that they can re do the floors, except we have nowhere to go because the guest room can't be vacated until we get permits for the bathroom, and we can't even get the guy who gives us the appointments to pick up the phone.
Did I mention the electricity keeps cutting off? Which would be a problem if I was working out of my desktop, but its fine because I am currently working out of my laptop, as the desktop is broken and we can’t afford a new one. It is a problem when the internet goes, but alas, usually it comes back.
Don't get me wrong. The guys are nice and I know that someday this will be all be a distant memory. But right now there is just me, my imaginary bedroom contractor, and alott-a vile in the gut.