I have lost my ever-lovin’ mind

This has been a helluva year, you know? First we were going to buy the flood plain house. Then we said we were going to just pack it up and move “in”, damn the consequences.

Then we realized that we had a lot more wrong with the Den than we could fix quickly, and taking a hit to the seller would about kill us. Change of plans, stay put and fix it slowly.

Of course, ‘slowly’ is relative. I mean, you watch any of the ‘flip’ shows out there and yes. We are moving very, verrrrrrrry slowly. Snail’s pace.

But for us, who do not do this for a living and in fact have other things occupying our time and attention, it is all a bit…much.

We painted Captain Adventure’s bedroom, and today I spent a ridiculous amount of time circling around Home Depot getting paint for the middle two kids’ room, and lighting and other ‘trim’ for Captain Adventure’s room. Calling the blinds guy to replace the “nursery” blinds in both rooms (which in one room were pulled rather vigorously out of the wall anyway and no longer function), and the nasty blinds downstairs that I have resisted replacing on the theory that we didn’t know what “theme” we were going with in there.

Answer: There is no theme. Get something that goes with the rest of the house and don’t worry about themes. You are not a theme kind of person anyway, just get something that looks nice and run with it. Idiot.

Also I called California Closets (via Costco, an interesting ‘ok, so, why couldn’t I just call them directly and just TELL them I want the Costco discount’ exercise) to come out and give me a quote on my walk-in closet and home office area in the bedroom. I hate what I have now, and also it doesn’t really work. It kinda gets the job done (kinda), but it doesn’t work. It is awkward, messy, spills out all over the place and makes it hard for me to sleep at night.

I can feel the clutter, mocking me from mere feet away…

ANYWAY.

There will be more painting in here. There will be new fixtures in the master bathroom. There will be new flooring throughout the upstairs. Also there may be a set of cabinets removed and a student center installed in their place. Maybe. We’ll see. As well as a bathroom remodel for the kids’ bathroom, which is huge but so badly designed it is largely wasted space.

AND OF COURSE, once the weather moves out of the current “let’s see if life can survive under extreme dry heat conditions” phase, there will be work in the backyard. Lots and lots and lots of it. There will be concrete patios poured. There will be a spa replaced (my husband does not know this part yet, but that cracked up thing has got to go, and I’m thinking a new one with gazebo would be nice). There will be new lawn seeded. There will be expensive playground fiber placed around the play equipment, complete with appropriate sand (for cushioning) and tarp (weed prevention). The weed patch next to the driveway will be replaced with a more driveway.

The part I fear is all the physical labor I know I’m going to be doing because I am cheap capable. The project management part is bad enough, and the CFO responsibilities are enough to keep me up nights – but then there’s the whole “OK, so, you’re saying that I can save $2,400 if I do all the work myself?” thing.

Two dump trucks are going to arrive, one bearing sand and the other playground fiber, and who is going to be shoveling and wheel-barrowing and shoveling again and spreading and stomping and otherwise offloading it into the playground area?

Me. Because they said, “OK, and add $2,400 for us to do that part for you…” and my brain went, “URK?!” and insisted that my body can so totally handle what they were planning to use four stalwart young men to do for $2,400.

I assure you, by the time I’ve gotten half that sand moved, I will be thinking that $2,400 is a small price to pay. I will feel like Dr. Wealthy McRich Pants and desperately want to call them up and pay them to come and do this menial crap which is so beneath me for me.

But of course by the time I pick up the phone, the cheap kicks back in and I say, “Nooooo, nooooo, I’m fine, I’m good, I just need a little rest and I’ll be back in business…”

And then I’m explaining to my doctor that the reason I’m here begging for Vicodin is, see, I had this dump truck full of sand…?

I have lost my ever lovin’ mind, and we have only just begun this whole episode.

I think I need another coffee. And also some chocolate. I had some cake, but…well, y’all know what happened to that…