Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Here's the weird thing: It seems like nothing is happening, and everything is happening.
Out of all the active inertia, some details shine thru: Namely, I think we've got the structural engineer on board. He's all excited about this Dow product that makes a sandwich of styrofoam and concrete for the walls. It sounds ideal, but I need to find out more.
Construction Headquarters is meandering along toward completion. I got a toilet and dishwasher yesterday, so that pretty much gives the green light for move-in.
The Grok God and his elf came over Saturday to do the paint treatment in the living room and dining room. It was a lot of fun doing it, but the results? Terrible. Now we have to fix it. But, as I told the Grok God, Don't worry, I have lots and lots of time and money, ha. I wish we'd just left it alone.
Already, I've learned so much. And then there's the tasks that give me total bouts of nostalgia. Like varnishing the newly dipped door to the kitchen: Suddenly there I am back in Helena, as a kid, working alongside Mom and Dad to renew what had been a crumbling, subdivided Victorian. We all had plaster dust in our hair, fingers sticky with stain, and urethane fumes in our lungs. Slowly, the home's soul revealed itself, and we were happy.
Out of all the active inertia, some details shine thru: Namely, I think we've got the structural engineer on board. He's all excited about this Dow product that makes a sandwich of styrofoam and concrete for the walls. It sounds ideal, but I need to find out more.
Construction Headquarters is meandering along toward completion. I got a toilet and dishwasher yesterday, so that pretty much gives the green light for move-in.
The Grok God and his elf came over Saturday to do the paint treatment in the living room and dining room. It was a lot of fun doing it, but the results? Terrible. Now we have to fix it. But, as I told the Grok God, Don't worry, I have lots and lots of time and money, ha. I wish we'd just left it alone.
Already, I've learned so much. And then there's the tasks that give me total bouts of nostalgia. Like varnishing the newly dipped door to the kitchen: Suddenly there I am back in Helena, as a kid, working alongside Mom and Dad to renew what had been a crumbling, subdivided Victorian. We all had plaster dust in our hair, fingers sticky with stain, and urethane fumes in our lungs. Slowly, the home's soul revealed itself, and we were happy.
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