Yesterday, I suffered through one of the most horrible experiences of this experience. I think I may suffer from PTSD when we are through this because of things like what happened yesterday. I don’t know if I can get through the story without shaking, but I’ll try…
Hubby decided he needed to start putting his wood shop together. He figured it would help his efficiency when we worked on projects if the wood shop was organized and ready. I think he’s just feeling a little out of control with this house situation and needed to take control of something. So…bright and early yesterday he got to work. I got the kids situated for the morning, put on my overalls and went out to help. I figured my help would be mostly a supportive role…that I’d be sitting there chatting with him, looking cute in my overalls… You know, supportive in an emotional way rather than a literal way. It was early in the morning, I was naive.
Wedged up across the ceiling rafters was a huge piece of cardboard. It was weathered and warped from years of moisture and exposure to the elements. Who knew how long it had been there….worse, who knew what was on TOP of the seemingly innocent piece of cardboard… How to get the cardboard down without dumping everything that was on top of it down on us? How to get it out in the quickest, cleanest way? Hubby pondered these questions while I questioned why the hell it had to come down at all?! He tried to cut the cardboard into smaller sections, tried to fold the cardboard, tried to gently slide it from its perch. All of his efforts failed. Finally, he settled on having me push the back end of the cardboard up with a rake while he pulled down. Innocently, I followed his direction, got under the cardboard, and pushed up with the rake. As he pulled, a pile of dust fell down from the cardboard and straight into my face! He pulled again and more dust rained down on me. Dust filled with mouse turds and Hantavirus and Leptosporosis and Plague and Rabies and…..ok, maybe I’m overreacting.
At least we got the horrid thing down and thrown away, but I wasn’t quite the same the rest of the day. I think that this whole process has me on an emotional edge most of the time. I do a pretty good job of keeping an even keel, but there are moments I just have to cry. Shortly after the cardboard incident was one of those moments. I just had to get out some tears. I hope that the therapy we’ll all need once this is done doesn’t cost too much….
Oh my gosh Annette. After just now reading this, makes my text to you a while ago seems so insignificant and reminds of things I used to find at our family farmhouse in the 70’s. The places that the mice lived, birthed hundreds of babies and died at, the memories came flooding back to me, not to mention the other critters I discovered both alive and dead I found on my explorations of our farm. You’ll look back on these and probably laugh or cry once you are all settled in your newly remodeled home.
Oh Jackie, I so hope you are right! It is very frustrating!!
I’m thinking a month on a beach would be a good idea sometime soon! Maybe a month in the mountains. Maybe in a completed house. Maybe in mommy’s lap in the rocker.
Boston isn’t too far away!
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