It’s been over a year now of living at an even more elevated disorganized state than usual, from neglected homework and misplaced tests, to laundry that had no other place to pile up aside from at the foot of the bed in a rather small room filled with the most coveted items in our life that didn’t make it into storage (which I guess happens to be comic books, video games, and clothing in our case) - but I think the end is nearly in sight.
Although it’s been less than two years since we made the official decision to sell our house and start the building process all over again – yes we really are that crazy – and it’s been almost 10 months since the actual construction began, I’m really hopeful that by the time this column is published, I will at least be unpacking boxes and getting within days of sleeping in my own house again.
There have been many times in the past year that I’ve caught myself feeling overwhelmed, a bit more frustrated than usual, and like I needed a tad more personal space, since we’ve been living with my parents since January of 2015. And each time, I’ve been mindful to catch myself, and remind myself that it really isn’t that bad, and that I am certainly one of the lucky ones.
But anyone who has undertaken the project of building a house knows that even in a project that runs smoothly (which overall, ours did), there are times where it’s hard to keep up to the phone calls, bills, and decisions that need to be made.
Shortly after Christmas, I thought I was at my limit, and many decisions didn’t seem to matter anymore. If it’s all brand new, it’s going to look good no matter what, right? My husband chose the majority of our paint colours, and picking out flooring was a rather painless 15-minute process.
And then came Family Day. As I was driving to town, my husband and I got in a disagreement over the phone (thank you Bluetooth for allowing my kids to now hear all my conversations with everyone) about what tiles to put in the kitchen.
Looking back, it’s funny to think that it was tiles that actually pushed me over that line. Likely, it wasn’t just tiles, but it was the build-up of over a year of living in someone else’s space, going from having my husband home almost all the time, to hardly ever seeing him while he worked on the house, all while trying to keep life as “normal” as possible for the kids.
Looking at the nearly finished product, I feel spoiled. I told my husband the other day that I’m not sure if I actually deserve this, to which he rolled his eyes and said he felt he had put in his dues, given he’s been working seven days a week for the past few months, waking up way earlier than me most of the time, and coming home much later.
He’s also had to deal with my snide remarks on a few of his choices, and many confused looks when I simply don’t understand the process. But, in the end, we are nearly there – and the tiles I picked out for the kitchen are going to look great.
