When we pulled up to the house at the very contractorly time of 11 a.m., there was a red pickup truck parked out front. My heart leapt—Roy was here.
We hadn’t communicated with our contractor in months, but on Monday, I made the call. He was going to meet us Thursday night, but had to cancel at the last minute (Roy is one of the good ones, and it still takes at least two tries to set up a meeting).
We walked him through our progress and discussed the bathroom work, which he said he could get to in about two weeks. Two weeks! My excitement is barely containable. And it’s nice to be excited again, because finishing the electric was so anti-climactic. It always seems like there is just one more thing, and then one more, but none of it ever adds up to progress.
Although we did put the final pieces of drywall in the hall, so I can’t say no progress. But we are what, six months without a toilet that doesn’t wobble when you sit on it?
During Roy’s visit, the subject of Phase II was broached quite often, and I am frankly terrified of it. At a minimum, that’s a total kitchen re-do, and replacing the entire ceiling in the living room. I need a long break before I—and my bank account—are up to that.