Tuesday, April 20, 2004
It's a good thing I was practically born with a paint scraper in my hand, because the Pirate's house -- which I now call Construction HQ -- is tapping all my home-improvement skills. People ask what I did on the weekends, and I have to rack my brain, because these days it's just a seemingly uninterrupted stream of painting, cleaning, staining, varnishing, mowing the lawns, talking with contractors, and so on. Not that I'm complaining: I'm meeting a ton of interesting people and enjoying the physical and karmic turnabout of Construction HQ. For the latter, my neighbors have offered a smudging.
The good news is that with new, painted trim in place of the yucky baseboard heaters I have now completed two rooms so I can start moving things over. I met with my real estate agent Friday, and we're on a tight schedule getting the other house to market.
More good news: Our old family friend, Roy, son of my mom's college buddy, stops by the office last week. I ask what he's doing for work these days, and it turns out he subcontracts for the builder I interviewed a couple weeks ago. I liked that builder right off, because he reminded me of my brother and I felt at ease with him immediately.
Last week I spent two hours at George Morlan picking out fixtures and more time this morning deliberating over marmoleum and formica for the new kitchen. I was a little bummed that the wacky "newspaper" pattern of formica isn't on offer anymore, because it's fun choosing all these bold finishes that I know I won't have to live with forever. I think that's partly why I didn't second-guess the Grok God when he picked deep-sea "ethereal" blue for the living room ceiling and everywhere in the dining room. Of course, I try not to second-guess the Grok God on anything.
The kitchen was demo-ed to the studs last week, and boy does it look a lot better than the grossness that was there before. Even that weird old guy smell is lifting. One cool artificact that surfaced: a hammer with the initials M.F.B. carefully carved into it. Mabel's hammer! She lives on in my toolbox.
The good news is that with new, painted trim in place of the yucky baseboard heaters I have now completed two rooms so I can start moving things over. I met with my real estate agent Friday, and we're on a tight schedule getting the other house to market.
More good news: Our old family friend, Roy, son of my mom's college buddy, stops by the office last week. I ask what he's doing for work these days, and it turns out he subcontracts for the builder I interviewed a couple weeks ago. I liked that builder right off, because he reminded me of my brother and I felt at ease with him immediately.
Last week I spent two hours at George Morlan picking out fixtures and more time this morning deliberating over marmoleum and formica for the new kitchen. I was a little bummed that the wacky "newspaper" pattern of formica isn't on offer anymore, because it's fun choosing all these bold finishes that I know I won't have to live with forever. I think that's partly why I didn't second-guess the Grok God when he picked deep-sea "ethereal" blue for the living room ceiling and everywhere in the dining room. Of course, I try not to second-guess the Grok God on anything.
The kitchen was demo-ed to the studs last week, and boy does it look a lot better than the grossness that was there before. Even that weird old guy smell is lifting. One cool artificact that surfaced: a hammer with the initials M.F.B. carefully carved into it. Mabel's hammer! She lives on in my toolbox.
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