If it’s Not Election Drama, It’s The Money Pit

Today a friend came to talk to me about building stairs for the new house. This weekend, they’ll “get started” on the A/C installation. Since the house was delivered sans ductwork or even vents, my dad and uncle will make a template and cut all the holes for the vents, then hopefully move on to more complicated tasks while my husband puts the grates on.

Trying to estimate time frames during this project is a surreal reminder that as is the case with colors, each of us feels time passing in a completely different way. You know how your version and your best friend’s version of green might be totally different? You may never know this, since there’s really no way to explain it. When my dad says “and that’s pretty much it, just this thing and this thing” I think awesome. So, a couple days for A/C and a week of floors and stairs because can’t floors and stairs be built concurrently? The reality is that “just this and this thing” could mean “just 6 more weekends of working on this house”. And when I say “I can’t do this again, this settling into a new house, unpacking and trying to nest when I’m 6 months pregnant” what I mean is “if I am not inside this house putting things away before Christmas, then I will simply go insane and even though I’ll only be 22 weeks pregnant, I DO NOT WANT TO SPEND THE LAST DAYS OF THIS PREGNANCY SETTLING INTO A NEW HOUSE!”

And yet I am helpless to control this timeline. There is literally nothing I can do, at this late stage. My feelings about moving in don’t trump the practical. The simple truth is that we don’t have a crew of 10 people working 10 hours a day, and we never will.

Note to self: stop watching Flip this House.


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