The Dreaded House

I have to stop going out in public

Every time I see anyone I know, they say, “How’s the kitchen renovation going?”

It’s like when you’re pregnant and huge and someone asks your due date and you tell them and they go, “Oh…You still have a while….” Yeah.

What I really want to say is, “Remember what it’s like to have that first poop after you’ve had a baby?” To which most women will say, “Oh, god…yes?”

It’s like that.

I hate to be such a bitch about it. Gary is a saint to deal with this mess when he works full time, and he’s really good at this stuff, but doing a full kitchen renovation in one’s off hours is just about impossible.

I’m ready to hire people to come in and finish it, but would he be insulted? Or would he be relieved.

I should be past embarrassment about this. We never had many people over anyway because I’m a pretty crappy housekeeper under normal circumstances.  But a couple of weeks ago our younger son brought his new girlfriend home to meet us. I tried to tell myself it was not a life or death thing, and that she would not judge us. But she seems like a really together young woman, and although she was adorable and chill about it, I’m sure she was thinking “What the actual fuck is wrong with these people?”

Have I mentioned I got a cat? Because of course when your house is in utter chaos from a renovation and you’re living in the middle of it and there are tools and dust and that spackley stuff everywhere, you need a cat.

File Sep 24, 2 18 31 PM

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