About That Rebuild...

90% of conversations with non-Jesse adult humans these days start or include this:

"How's the house coming along?"

They do this out of love and concern and interest. Having people in our life who know what's going on and care about us? That's a great thing: I see and receive that as goodness.

This doesn't negate the fact that I now have a self-diagnosed case of carpal-tunnel syndrome in my tongue from answering it in the most diplomatic way I know how, over and over again:

"Well, they are saying we'll be back in by the first week or two of February...but then again they said before Thanksgiving and January 4th, also. Really, anytime before vernal equinox would be a slam dunk at this point."

I act breezy when I say that, like, "whatevs, I BARELY even care. I almost forgot I was building a house until you mentioned it," and hope they don't notice my insurance-sponsored facial tic.

And we all go on about our lives.

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The other, truer answer gives far more insight into our building experience and my general frame of mind, but may also qualify me for an involuntary psych hold, so I usually hold back. 

But hell, what's a blog for if not for saying things in writing on the WORLD-WIDE web that I wouldn't in real life?! (cue Jesse panic-sweat as he reads this).

You should picture a rubber band being wound progressively tighter as this reply unfolds:

"You know when you pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for a beautiful sculpture you've always wanted and will have for decades? 

And then it breaks into a million pieces 10 months after you buy it? 

And you have to pick up the pieces and glue it all back together? 

And there's a chance you can make it even more lovely than it was before, BUT only YOU know how it's supposed to look once it's finished?  

But you're not actually allowed to touch the pieces yourself?

And how only a blindfolded person can touch them for you, but you can't talk directly to the person touching the pieces, and instead MUST use an interpreter/middle man? 

But you only share maybe 20% of a common language with the interpreter? 

And you only get ONE CHANCE? 

And the clock is ticking because time is money?

Yeah, that's pretty much how it's going. LaughOutLoud, right?"

And then I hit the powder room to freshen up because I'm sweating a hearty mixture of blood and concentrated stress hormone from my under-boob area. 

And I look in the mirror at my crazed eyes, and I think to myself "THIS. Renovating after a fire. THIS is the Joker's true origin-story."

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Oh, you were just wondering about paint color? Oh, yeah, ahem, it's white. We're going with white.

'Cause it matches my facepaint.