Clearing House

I need to finish the two skirts I have on hand, because I'm about to lose the use of my sewing room. Well, maybe not entirely; but starting Tuesday, and continuing through (God willin' and the creek don't rise) August, workmen will be gutting and fixing up the two-story enclosed back porch, part of which is adjacent to the game room where I do my sewing. The scrap bin and ironing board are out there, and I'll have to take down the table where Damon and I spread out projects, both sewing and gaming, so workmen can get back to the space.

So for the rest of the week I'll have to be sewing and moving things out of the porch instead of doing writing work. I don't mind as much as I should, because I really, really need to be getting stuff back in the mail, and I hate that. But I can't sell anything if I don't mail it. So instead of sabotaging my career and not doing it because of personal flaws, now I'll be sabotaging my career and not doing it because of more urgent practical stuff. (And last week it was health stuff, and the week before that...)

There's a limit to how often I can let myself get away with that kind of thing, but that's a subject for another day.

For now - sewing and moving stuff. Moving stuff will primarily be my job because I'm home all day, though there may be things so heavy in there that I need Damon's help with them. The space consists of a laundry room, two rooms which between them constitute a single inferior full bath, two sun porches with storage, and a ripped-out bathroom called "the pigeon room" due to the state of the ceiling, used as storage for things boxed up well enough that we're not worried about the nasty particulates sifting down from the attic.

For four months there'll be a dumpster in the driveway and a Portajohn adjacent to it. The neighbors will love that, I know. (Need to warn the guy next door.) I'll probably lose some plants permanently. We won't have a washer or dryer. The downstairs litter box will have to be in public space. The cats will be cranky. Boxes of books, camping equipment, toolboxes, the ironing board, the sunflower seed bin, and I don't know what all will be stacked in the shed, attic, front porch, and various rooms depending on how vulnerable they are to weather and how often we need to use them. And we'll be in debt for more than the market price of the house when we bought it. If Damon dies during the mortgage period, I'm completely screwed. (Dammit, I need to start earning again so I would be less completely screwed, because people do die. And here I am not mailing things out.)

But at the end of all this - again, God willin' and the creek don't rise - we'll have a sound back porch for the first time since we moved in, with two and a half baths, laundry upstairs rather than down in a sun porch which is also a functional craft room, a mud room with a mop sink, several features (like windows, a transom, an exterior light) restored to functionality, a screen door, and a comfortable sun room with attractive storage space of larger capacity than the jerry-rigged stuff we have now.

Chaos always precedes creation. The only way to find out whether the result is worth the hassle is to pitch yourself into the hassle and come out the other side.