Danm, that felt great. I’ve just sat down to rest after 24 hours of mad housework. I cleared about half the construction disarray, then scrubbed, swept and dusted. (Okay, I got a few hours sleep in there, too; but it was still a marathon.)
You have no idea how feeeelthy a house can get after six weeks of drywalling (even with all the work being done in a back room) and an even longer time of cutting up 2x4s, shims, and trim with a chop saw that has no good place to operate. The saw’s been in the living room all this time. Ugh. I gave up on trying to keep ahead of dust and wood chips a while back. It was beginning to look as if snow had drifted in.
Normally I’m pretty scrupulous about keeping an orderly house. I can’t think amid mess. But since last spring when I began shifting all the tools, materials, and general stuff out of the future bedroom so we could work on the back of the house, it’s been utter chaos with little I could do about it.
Heck, it’s been chaos for 4-1/2 years, but the last nine months have been the worst. This last full day still left a lot to be done. But it helped. Boy, did it help.
I also hauled one full carload and one partial to the thrift store. Farewell, half my clothes and the temp baskets they’ve been kept in. From thrift store back to thrift store with you all.
Then I vacuumed and washed most of the dog hair and mud out of the interior of the Kia. Thank heaven for the waterproof dog hammock Furrydoc gave me as a car-warming present. But even with that to prevent the worst, the combo of Ava and this climate is not a happy one for a vehicle. Or for a person who’d like to keep the vehicle from deteriorating into a particularly disreputable kennel.
Whew. Felt great, I tell you. Fantastic. As if I washed my mind out with a firehose.
Still, I can’t kid myself. There’s more and more and more to do.
I’ve got most of the rubble and tool storage reduced to two small rooms.
One of those rooms (not that one) will be cleaned out by next week.
But how much longer will it be before I can finally — finally! — remove all that scrounged hardwood flooring from behind the couch and actually get it installed in a truly finished room?
The defunct flooring contractor I got that hardwood from is serving a nine-year prison sentence for committing some nutzoid violent crime. He’s about two years into it as we speak and I fear he’ll be out on parole before I lay that floor. (Maybe I could ask him to install the flooring when he gets out; but then, he was a burglar before he upgraded to committing assault, so prolly not.)
And whatever am I going to do with that 68-feet of baseboard molding — most of it in 12-foot lengths — currently bridging the kitchen and the sun room and threatening to trip me when I go for a late-night snack?
I got it at a contractor’s garage sale a couple of weeks ago; it was too good a buy to pass up. I got other moldings at that sale that I’ve already made good use of in the bedroom. But I’m months away from even beginning to think about thinking about tackling the rooms where that stuff’s going eventually going to go. And it’s only MDF so I can’t store it in the damp of Neighbor J’s garage.
I think once the bedroom’s done, I’ll cut it into shorter lengths and … sigh, I dunno. Hide it under the bed?