Hello, Internet

Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. Well. They are at least partially exaggerated, or perhaps merely a bit premature.

In any case, I really am still alive. See, I left Thursday for a four day trip to Disneyland with a trio of girlfriends (no husbands, no kids) and in spite of only one (1) evening of relatively low-grade drinking I am still feeling a tad hung-over.

We talk a good story, but I’m afraid none of us are wild party girls any more. When we say we’re drinkin’ heavy, we either mean that we had two.whole.cocktails!, or that we got the half-gallon sized water bottle for the day.

But we did frolic and giggle and shriek and otherwise behave rather without dignity for three straight days, and when I got home I basically walked through the door, hugged everybody and then went to bed.

What I’m sure you all want to know is: What’s happening with the sweater?

I don’t know.

We still aren’t speaking.

My new True Love, to which I am faithful beyond telling, is the Irish Diamond Shawl (here modeled by the lovely Wendy of Wendy Knits). For once, I am doing it in the yarn called for, Harrisville Shetland. I am having a love-hate relationship with this yarn. I love it because it is crisp, and I can already see that the lace pattern is going to look really, really good. And I hate it because it is not alpaca not ooey-gooey soft.

But if the shawl washes up like my swatch did, it should become a bit softer after the ceremonious Pre-Blocking Dip.

And as soon as I find the camera, I’ll take some pictures, I pinkie-promise.

The remodeling is…driving me nuts. Lessee. We were supposed to have almost everything done this very week – the tile in the bathrooms, and the California Closets solutions (it just tickles me that they are called ‘solutions’, for some stupid reason) (possibly because I am easily entertained) installed by Thursday and then we would all have a group hug and promise to stay in touch and each go our separate ways.

BUT, the kid’s bathroom floor has some significant water damage and a little mold, so instead we have to pull out everything, replace the sub-flooring (meh!) and so forth and so on. SO, we decided that, in for a penny in for a pound, we’d go ahead and do the whole remodel in there. We’re taking it from one sink to two, changing out the cabinetry, and adding three more medicine cabinets to replace the big mirror – two in the middle and one on each side. We’ll also be getting rid of the infamous yellowing cultured marble, replacing it with another synthetic that allegedly doesn’t do that. Uh-huh, yeah, we’ll see. We’re also adding a sliding glass door to the bathtub, to minimize future water damage.

We should be done sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas on that. **sigh**

Meanwhile, it was discovered that the tile that was delivered was the wrong tile. CURSES! How wrong? Well, we ordered Egyptian Beige. We got Indian Red.

There is a slight color difference. Like, one is white-ish and the other is red.

ANYWAY. They told us that it would be a week or two before they’d have the correct tile delivered and then another week or two before they could come back and install it. And we had been told they had to finish THEIR job before California Closets could do the closet.

CURSES!!!!!

See, I am having a little bit of difficulty with this whole “I have no master suite” thing. I have become accustomed to little luxuries like a dresser and a bathtub. I like being able to take a shower without a constant stream of Denizens, who burst in like the DEA taking down a drug cartel screaming, “SORRY MOMMA I GOTTA GO POTTTTEEEEEEEE!”

This tends to happen frequently when you’re down to only one bathroom for six people.

My clothing is all over the house, I can’t find any socks, and my “office” is scattered throughout the house AND garage. I couldn’t find a pen to save my life. It is causing me to become emotional and irrational. And also to spend a lot of money on stuff I already own, because I can’t find the stuff I already own and I need it NOW!!

Like a set of stitch markers. And a(nother) skein of Schaefer Yarns Anne. I know I have about six million stitch markers somewhere, but I needed a set NOW. And as for the Anne, well…it was pretty. And smelled good. And it said it loved me too. So I bought it. Who am I to deny true love?

I am very tired of the emotional rollercoaster. First there is much rejoicing, because the project will be finished this week! YAY! And then, it will not! BOO! And then we can do half of the California Closets! YAY! And then, the kid’s bathroom will take even longer! BOO! California Closets can actually do the closets before the tile is in! YAY! Wait, Tile Guy says we’re going to get the tile this week? Tomorrow?! YAY YAY YAY…wait, this means that California Closets has to do the closet first, so they can do the closet on Thursday? OK! YAY! California Closets says, “Oh, really? Because the bedroom set is really big, and we’ve already loaded it on the truck…” BOO! “…but because you are more than halfway to Psychoville and might hurt us if we don’t such a nice lady, we’ll go ahead and reload the truck with the closet materials first.” YAY!!!

SO. According to theory (and we all know how well that’s been working out for us here), we should have our bedroom back together by Thursday, which gives me all day Friday to start sorting all the crap now strewn around the house as if a miniature tornado had blown through it (Tupperware and moo-moos, as far as the eye can see…) (I am really, honestly embarrassed to have people over right now, it is that bad) (even the contractors, I wish they could do the work without, you know, actually coming into the house).

If $DEITY is with me, I’ll have a functioning life again by Monday.

And also pictures of my new digs. Which will be completed, except for all the detail work. I expect we will finish that shortly before we die retire move have our Christmas gathering.

And now, somehow, it is time to get the older Denizens. Honestly. That earth-speeding-up thing? It’s real. Remind me to email Al Gore about it, I’ll bet he has the resources to prove it…