Hi friends. It's sunday 6 pm, and I've just given myself permission to declare that work is over for today. For the last three days it's been renovation central at our house, and in case you don't know this about me: I hate renovating. We've only been renovating this house for the last...oh seven years. Or more. Feels like more.
Anyway, I am sore all over, I am tired and I have had enough. Today is easter sunday, so luckily we got to spend the morning making a nice breakfast for my mother-in-law who joined us and then afterwards, the sweetheart, she stayed to help a bit. And my father-in-law has been here the last two days helping out, too. Very kind, but very crazy people to submit themselves willingly to a task I detest and can sometimes not see the end of.
I've just made myself a sub-standard latte (I have a coffee-snobbish-streak, I'm sure you'll hear more about that another time) and permitted myself to eat two small squares of dark chocolate as a treat. At dinner time. Well, it is easter after all. But hubby is still up on a ladder in the fading daylight, hell-bent on getting these last weatherboards up. And luckily we still have a whole day-old pizza in the fridge from yesterday, because I seriously don't feel like cooking. I put home made vietnamese rice-paper rolls on the menu for friday, but every night I am too tired to even stand up, let alone do it in the kitchen while simultaneously moving my arms in a manner that produces a dinner. Really, I am beat.
Might also have something to do with the fact that the part of the house we are working on at the moment is our bedroom, and we are currently sleeping on the floor in the spare room. It was only going to be for a few nights, but now it's looking like those few nights might be more like a lot of nights, so I'm considering actually putting the spare bed back together so we can at least sleep in a bed. But I'd have to gather the energy to do said job, and that might be tricky.
Anyway, tomorrow is the last day that hubby is home to go crazy with the renovations (he gets up way too early, puts his work gear on and stares at me while I try to finish my breakfast before I've even properly woken up) and then on Tuesday it's me and the house alone again. Which is fine by me. If I'm correct I might even have a few hours of work on Tuesday, and I also have to visit my dentist for a check-up. It'll be nice to see my little friend Ruby again, who is my job on Tuesdays. In case you don't know this about me either: I am currently a part-time nanny and look after seriously cute kiddies. Ruby is nearly two and hilarious company. But they've been away for a couple of weeks and I've missed hanging out with Ruby and her mum, who is also very good company and whom I consider a friend.
Excuse me for a moment while I go put the big work light outside for my husband. He eats a lot of carrots and tends to do things in the dark, but I prefer him not to fall off a ladder two weeks before our long-awaited holiday to Europe.
There. Better. I can hear him out there with the saw and can only admire his drive to do this mammoth job all by himself. Well, you know, with the help of his begrudging wife, who only helps because she's so friggin' over the renovations that she'll do anything to let them be over, including sanding and painting, my two least favourite jobs. I quite enjoy hammering stuff and I'm actually quite into destroying things, but neither of those will finish the house on their own. I enjoyed ripping weatherboards off the walls. And I had good fun pulling our old kitchen and bathroom apart a few years back, as they were horrid and old and irritated me every day I used them. Now I do have an amazing kitchen and bathroom. Both of which I love and feel grateful for every day that I use them. Especially my kitchen, with its soft-close drawers, all neatly organised perfectly, everything within reach, fully equipped and colour co-ordinated. Oh yes. It is like that. I think my kitchen is the best I know. I am spoiled with it, and when I have to use other people's kitchens I feel sorry for the owners of them, and I am constantly missing vital tools and gadgets for making the simplest meals. Like sharp knives. I don't know many people who have sharp knives, which makes me wonder why. Them's for cuttin' things, no? Maybe because a lot of kitchens I frequent are in the houses of people with children and they wouldn't want their little sprouts to accidentally cut themselves in the unlikely event that said sprouts would manage to get to said knives? Who knows.
I digress. Yes, I know, I do that. Sorry.
I don't actually think I was getting to a point, but who cares. Right?
Conclusion is, I detest renovating, but I love the result. Our house is becoming seriously wonderful. I mean, I have a laundry chute in my bathroom that leads straight into my laundry cupboard, who else has that, I ask you? Pity it's still in one of the least nice suburbs of lovely Melbourne. To call Reservoir 'not nice' might be an understatement. It's pretty bad. It's too far out of town, it has NO character and the shops are terrible. Oh and the crime rate here is about as high as the Eureka tower. But you know, we now have two reasonably nice cafes that serve decent coffee, which we didn't have six months ago, so who knows what the future hold for old Ressa?
Ok, I better go. It is now pitch dark out there and I can still hear a lot of banging. I think hubby has got to the hammering part of the job and I might go and see if I can lend him a hand. I am ok with a hammer.
Anyway, I am sore all over, I am tired and I have had enough. Today is easter sunday, so luckily we got to spend the morning making a nice breakfast for my mother-in-law who joined us and then afterwards, the sweetheart, she stayed to help a bit. And my father-in-law has been here the last two days helping out, too. Very kind, but very crazy people to submit themselves willingly to a task I detest and can sometimes not see the end of.
I've just made myself a sub-standard latte (I have a coffee-snobbish-streak, I'm sure you'll hear more about that another time) and permitted myself to eat two small squares of dark chocolate as a treat. At dinner time. Well, it is easter after all. But hubby is still up on a ladder in the fading daylight, hell-bent on getting these last weatherboards up. And luckily we still have a whole day-old pizza in the fridge from yesterday, because I seriously don't feel like cooking. I put home made vietnamese rice-paper rolls on the menu for friday, but every night I am too tired to even stand up, let alone do it in the kitchen while simultaneously moving my arms in a manner that produces a dinner. Really, I am beat.
Might also have something to do with the fact that the part of the house we are working on at the moment is our bedroom, and we are currently sleeping on the floor in the spare room. It was only going to be for a few nights, but now it's looking like those few nights might be more like a lot of nights, so I'm considering actually putting the spare bed back together so we can at least sleep in a bed. But I'd have to gather the energy to do said job, and that might be tricky.
Anyway, tomorrow is the last day that hubby is home to go crazy with the renovations (he gets up way too early, puts his work gear on and stares at me while I try to finish my breakfast before I've even properly woken up) and then on Tuesday it's me and the house alone again. Which is fine by me. If I'm correct I might even have a few hours of work on Tuesday, and I also have to visit my dentist for a check-up. It'll be nice to see my little friend Ruby again, who is my job on Tuesdays. In case you don't know this about me either: I am currently a part-time nanny and look after seriously cute kiddies. Ruby is nearly two and hilarious company. But they've been away for a couple of weeks and I've missed hanging out with Ruby and her mum, who is also very good company and whom I consider a friend.
Excuse me for a moment while I go put the big work light outside for my husband. He eats a lot of carrots and tends to do things in the dark, but I prefer him not to fall off a ladder two weeks before our long-awaited holiday to Europe.
There. Better. I can hear him out there with the saw and can only admire his drive to do this mammoth job all by himself. Well, you know, with the help of his begrudging wife, who only helps because she's so friggin' over the renovations that she'll do anything to let them be over, including sanding and painting, my two least favourite jobs. I quite enjoy hammering stuff and I'm actually quite into destroying things, but neither of those will finish the house on their own. I enjoyed ripping weatherboards off the walls. And I had good fun pulling our old kitchen and bathroom apart a few years back, as they were horrid and old and irritated me every day I used them. Now I do have an amazing kitchen and bathroom. Both of which I love and feel grateful for every day that I use them. Especially my kitchen, with its soft-close drawers, all neatly organised perfectly, everything within reach, fully equipped and colour co-ordinated. Oh yes. It is like that. I think my kitchen is the best I know. I am spoiled with it, and when I have to use other people's kitchens I feel sorry for the owners of them, and I am constantly missing vital tools and gadgets for making the simplest meals. Like sharp knives. I don't know many people who have sharp knives, which makes me wonder why. Them's for cuttin' things, no? Maybe because a lot of kitchens I frequent are in the houses of people with children and they wouldn't want their little sprouts to accidentally cut themselves in the unlikely event that said sprouts would manage to get to said knives? Who knows.
I digress. Yes, I know, I do that. Sorry.
I don't actually think I was getting to a point, but who cares. Right?
Conclusion is, I detest renovating, but I love the result. Our house is becoming seriously wonderful. I mean, I have a laundry chute in my bathroom that leads straight into my laundry cupboard, who else has that, I ask you? Pity it's still in one of the least nice suburbs of lovely Melbourne. To call Reservoir 'not nice' might be an understatement. It's pretty bad. It's too far out of town, it has NO character and the shops are terrible. Oh and the crime rate here is about as high as the Eureka tower. But you know, we now have two reasonably nice cafes that serve decent coffee, which we didn't have six months ago, so who knows what the future hold for old Ressa?
Ok, I better go. It is now pitch dark out there and I can still hear a lot of banging. I think hubby has got to the hammering part of the job and I might go and see if I can lend him a hand. I am ok with a hammer.
It's going to look amazing when it's finished! :)
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