This is the first weekend we didn’t work on the house. We drove to Expo and picked up the rest of the bathroom tile, but that was it. We spent the rest of the weekend with friends, going to a concert and hanging out at their place and actually having fun.
Other than the odd run to pick up something we ordered, I don’t really have to think about the house for three more weeks. Our foreman, aka Joe’s dad, is on vacation, and we suddenly have a jam-packed social calendar. I know this should make me happy—this house has, after all, murdered my social life—but instead, I feel like I am in withdrawal.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the distraction, but the delay, especially now, when we’re so close to getting the bathroom done, is killing me. Lately I’ve caught myself staring at houses as I drive by them, actually jealous of whoever’s lucky enough to live inside. They don’t even have to be nice houses, just finished.