I thought yesterday we might be making some progress. But no. The bathroom sink (currently the only sink in the house) sprang a drain leak, and a bedroom outlet melted while Tom was sanding the floor. I guess we haven't quite solved those electrical problems.

There is a touch of hopeful news: the electrical inspector will okay the new kitchen wiring on Friday, which means that Tom should be able start insulating and sheetrocking the kitchen this weekend. The cabinets are built (but not urethaned) and the floor tile is on the way. We might even acquire a few appliances someday.

This afternoon I'll be heading north for band practice. Before leaving I'll try to get some yard work done at the house. Right now I feel almost useless. I've essentially finished the painting (except for touch-ups), and the floors still aren't ready to urethane. At the apartment I've finished all the packing I can do at this stage. Tom will fix the plumbing tonight, but for the moment I can't start anything at the house that requires water (e.g., wash paintbrushes, scrub floors, caulk seams).

Maybe I'll force myself to copy out some poems.

Creepy Moment from Literature

"Your uncle thinks you very pretty, dear Fanny--and that is the long and the short of the matter. Anybody but myself would have made something more of it, and any body but you would resent that you had not been thought very pretty before; but the truth is, that your uncle never did admire you till now--and now he does. Your complexion is so improved!--and you have gained so much countenance!--and your figure--Nay, Fanny, do not turn away about it--it is but an uncle. If you cannot bear an uncle's admiration what is to become of you? You must really begin to harden yourself to the idea of being worth looking at.--You must try not to mind growing up into a pretty woman."

"Oh! don't talk so, don't talk so," cried Fanny, distressed by more feelings than he was aware of.

[The passage is from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park, and that's Fanny's beloved Edmund talking, which makes the whole thing even more unsavory. I daresay we could compile a multi-volume anthology of such moments.]

Well, the floor urethane is on hold until Tom finishes up all the floor prep. But I did manage to get two coats of paint onto the living room ceiling and to put first coats of dark gray onto the wall patches that the electrician damaged. (It seems he changed his mind about where the smoke detectors should go, but only after cutting a few giant practice holes in the wallboard.) I also scraped paint off the stairs with a razor blade. Today: More electrician damage-control. More shower-stall scrubbing. Perhaps an investigation of the clogged dryer vent. Potentially some leaf raking.

But first: editing, and laundry, and some workshop advertising. Would you like to take a 10-week essay workshop with me this winter? Please say yes.

After getting home yesterday evening, we basically climbed onto the couch and stayed there. Eventually I managed to bumble into the bedroom and get the first decent night's sleep I've had all week. And now this morning I am gearing up for a long day at the house, which I haven't laid eyes on since Tuesday.

The sky is glowering and low over the roofs and trees. Supposedly the sun will appear, but there's no sign of that yet . . . not that any weather should matter to me as I expect to spend the day urethaning floors and/or painting the living room ceiling and/or scraping paint off the stairs with a razor and a putty knife. In addition to sleeplessness I've been fighting a week-long headache, so the prospect of work seems daunting. But I imagine I'll overcome the inertia and manage to get something accomplished.

Miraculously I slept till 6 this morning. And now Tom has rushed out of the house to buy plywood and sheetrock, and now I am gathering my Thanksgiving-dinner responsibilities into bags and coolers, and soon Tom will rush home and we'll eat leftover dinner for breakfast, and then we'll drive west into the future.

Here's hoping you all have a restful/comical/affectionate holiday. Don't forget to go outside and look up at the ragged clouds and then down at the last of the tough old dandelions. Don't forget to dig for gold in your driveway. Don't forget to consult the oracle at Delphi. If you hear an odd whispering noise in the night, do not worry. It will either be teenagers in love or the earth spinning on her axis. Plan ahead for joy, by which I mean: play long ferocious card games with your father and give everyone a chance to try out the guitar effects pedal. Try not to stay awake all night worrying about the fact that your kitchen has no plumbing. Bird augury can be relaxing, but do not sacrifice anything on an altar.

Sending much love--

House-in-Progress

The living room, with elegant lawn chairs. Clever camera angle prevents you from seeing the uninstalled storm door and the old dishwasher waiting to go to the dump.

Stairwell facing from the living room into the mysterious dining room. The ghost lives in the register at the bottom of the stairs.

Oddly compressed view of the  dining room, which is bigger than it looks here. Note the many unattached doors, the piles of kitchen equipment, and the fancy paper-towel centerpiece.

The future guest room/TV-watching room, with no floor showing because it's currently covered in construction equipment and you don't want to look at that. As you may be able to glimpse, the neighbor has a nice garden.

Tree and rock-wall view from the new kitchen door.

Front door, ceiling halo, and building permit taped to the window.

What kind of idiots move at Christmastime two years in a row? Never again.

Yesterday I began the first stages of dismantling the doll-house. We still have no kitchen at the Alcott House, and the upstairs floors still need to be urethaned. But the attics and the dining room are now clean and prepped for storage, so I loaded up my car with kitchen items, art, summer clothes, and the like and lugged them across town. Today: more of the same, plus another few hours spent digging filthy old caulk out of the shower stall. I know I've said this before, but that bathroom . . . Ugh.

I'll spend today and tomorrow working on the house, and then we'll be off to Vermont to pick up Son Number 2 and his friend and drive them up to my parents' place for the holiday. Son Number 1 and his friend, sadly, will be far away, but at least I'll have a few of my dear young people to enjoy. I just hope I can manage to enjoy them and don't waste my hours sleeplessly fretting about house stuff.

But guess what? I fixed a leak in the bathroom sink drain. I installed a towel rack and a new toilet seat. You're watching the birth of the new handy me.