Because the bottom floor won’t be completely done. There are two bathrooms down there, plus my raised dog tub and none of that will be done for three or four weeks.
Meanwhile, living in this house is becoming unbearable. Last night the clothes dryer gasped its last breath and, while I’m not above hanging clothes out to dry, this spring a tree fell on the clothesline. The water pressure in the bathroom is dwindling, meaning the pump is about to go – again – for the fifth time in the 17 years we’ve lived here (the well is 650 feet down). My mattress this week sprung a wire that sticks into my back. I pound it down, it pops back up. The only way to replace the mattress is to take the banister off the staircase to get it up the stairs, not an easy task and certainly not something you want to deal with if you’re moving in a few weeks.
It occurs to me that we’ve gone about this rather strangely. Most people would have gradually improved housing over a period of years. Instead, we’ve taken years to improve our housing. So we’re rather like the Beverly Hillbillies in that we’re moving from a shack to a mansion all in one go (that, and Dirtman’s shaving habit’s are kind of like Jed Clampett’s).
Not that this is a mansion, but it is certainly a honkin’ big house. I have major house guilt over this and keep apologizing to people. Truth to tell, I originally wanted a very small cottage, but when you add a couple of kids plus a home business plus a husband who adores chaos – well, it kind of became like Rose Red and I’m not so sure that even when we think we’re done construction will stop.
So start baking that cheesecake and chess pie, Jag and Leslie; cool the wine, Trasherati; and Mamma K, whatever – sure to be wonderful: The Linguinis are movin’ on up, to the east (west…) side, to that dee-lux apartment (house), in the sky…Editor's Note: The above pictures are old. Sisiggy fully intended to update the pictures. Then attempted to navigate the dark staircase and went tumbling down, probably rebreaking the ankle she's broken twice before. As you read this, she is probably waiting in a long line to be x-rayed. This is because she's too cheap to go to the emergency room and, therefore, spent the night making everyone in the house miserable.
Update: Whiney Sisiggy did not break or even sprain her ankle. It is swollen and very colorful and big baby that she is, she will insist on putting her foot up today as a good excuse to knit and listen to books on tape. None of this will prevent her from going to the Williams Sonoma outlet and to see Aussie puppies with Mamma K tomorrow. So don't cry for me, Argentina.