Chaos

They dismantled my bathroom today—took out the commode and sink (now sitting in my driveway by the garage), took out all the drawers from the built-ins (drawers will be rebuilt and re-installed) and disconnected all water. It was relatively painless, though I hear tomorrow and Friday when they pull the tile will be noisy. Meantime, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started toward that bathroom.

I am now confined to the small—really small—bathroom off my office, which is crowded with all the stuff I cannot live without for one day. Reminds me of when I travel and am appalled at all the cosmetics and stuff a lady of my age carts around. One son-in-law always says, “What have you in here? Books?” Well, maybe that too. But I’m trying to get accustomed to this new arrangement and figure out the best way to place things.

Today, to top it off, I fell. Now, mind you, I was sitting down when I fell. Friend Betty asked how I could do that, and I said I guess only I was capable of it. But my favorite comb fell behind a flimsy wire shelf thing beneath the sink. I sat down on the floor, Indian-style, to retrieve it, reached, didn’t get it, and somehow fell backwards—I guess momentum. But I whacked my head on the closet door, which brought Jacob running. And then I couldn’t get up.

To be fair, there isn’t much maneuvering space in there. I finally worked around until I was on my knees, held on to the sink and the commode, and still couldn’t get my legs to push myself up. Jacob stood watching all this and said, “Juju, if you’re not up in five minutes, I’m calling 911.” I told him no, to call his mother, but I did struggle to my feet.  Truth be told, I was alarmed at how weak I perceived my legs to be, so the incident left me shaken.

Dinner at a nice restaurant with friends cheered me greatly, but then I thought I had trouble getting up from the chair and that discouraged me. Came home, went about my business, and it dawned on me I got up and down from my desk chair several times and from the toilet once without even thinking about it. I’ve got to stop over-thinking this leg thing.

Tell me again, please, why I wanted to redo my bathroom. Too late now though.

A Kick in the Pants

Bathroom as it looks today
Not tided up for a picture
Note the wonderful beveled mirror--it stays

Sometimes we need a kick in the pants to jolt us out of our self-absorption. Just got the call I’ve been waiting for—they will start tearing out my bathroom next week. Means I’ll spend the weekend hauling stuff out, sorting and purging, putting what I need in the small half/bath. I’ll have to learn to go to that bath in the middle of the night, adjust my whole pattern. Then, when they tear the kitchen apart, I won’t be able to cook, etc. The contractors, Bundock Construction, have kept this house running for over twenty years, and the assure me we're not doing this for resale value--we're doing it to give me a safe bathroom. Tub goes away, and I'll have a walk-in shower.

We are keeping the built-ins
so typical of a house the age of mine

Suddenly I feel all this will energize me, push me out of my lingering depression over my foot and leg. I spend too much time wondering if I hurt because I don’t walk or I don’t walk because I hurt. I know many have much more severe pain and worse problems than I can even imagine, and I’m looking forward to a doctor’s appointment Monday, hoping for diagnostic as well as therapeutic effects. But meantime, this has given me a great sense of optimism.

Big problem: keeping the dog safely corralled with all the workmen coming in and out of the house—and keeping the house reasonably clean as they cart out tile and spread dust everywhere. It’s going to be an experience and a challenge, just what I need.

Also keeping the wonderful old
medicine chest and
the relatively new sink

I’ve heard that rats don’t like commotion. In fact, I read a post that said to just bang on the ceiling if you hear rats in your attic. I think I have them—again!—because Sophie stands in the hallway and barks at the ceiling. So I’m counting on the construction commotion top chase them away. A side benefit you might say.

I probably won’t get much writing done, but who knows? With all the commotion, I may just retreat to my office, and with the renewed energy, write an entire novel while they redo my bathroom. But how will I get my afternoon nap?

For distraction this afternoon, I had four screaming nine-year-old boys—chaos! They didn’t want snacks, just wanted water, and I left them in the family room (or whatever we’re calling it these days) with frequent trips to check. At one point, Jacob told me, “Juju, we’re having a boy talk.” I asked if that meant I should leave and he said yes. Of course, when Jordan got here, they were starving—ended up eating cheese toast and hot dogs.

Ended the day with a nice supper with Betty at Fixture—we split nachos with brie and cranberry salsa and truffle mac and cheese—an odd combination but good. Because there seemed to be a breeze, we ate outside (much easier on my ears) which was pleasant. Then the rain came, at first gentle and then fairly steady, and everything turned steamy and hot.

They promise a cold front tonight—I thought it was last night.