Dear pool man, about that text message…

When I first declared my love for my builder a million six months ago, there were a lot of people that told me that over time I would change my mind, that by the end of the renovation my tune would have changed and I would be cursing and muttering hate filled expletives under my breath when his name was mentioned.

It’s not true. Although a LOT of time has passed and a FORTUNE of work has been done I can still safely say that our builder was brilliant, fantastic, reliable and dedicated – a pleasure to deal with and if I ever lost my mind and decided to renovate or build again, we would use him without even thinking about it.
[Read more…]

6 things to be very happy about

6 thingsI realise I have been a little negative lately when talking about my renovation and my temporary homelessness. It’s a bit nauseating considering I am about to move into a beautiful home and most people in the world would wish for “problems” like mine.  But anxiety is a terrible affliction and it doesn’t allow you to choose when and where you should feel like you are falling apart.

In an attempt to counteract my negativity and try and quash my anxiety I’ve decided to focus on the positive – and there’s a lot of it.

  1. We are staying at my sister’s house for another 4 nights (we have been here for 7 already). She and her family have been amazing and kind and generous and it feels a little bit like a holiday at times. Mr Pencil and I are living in her granny flat complete with our own fridge, TV and ensuite.  Little Pencil has his own room in the “big” house, it’s like Southfork (for anyone as old as me that remembers Dallas).  Spending time just being with all of them is just as it should be – it feels very right.
  2. Little Pencil is only marginally happier than Fluffy Pencil to be surrounded by cousins and an amazing aunt and uncle. I fear Fluffy Pencil has found new favourite people and none of them are from the immediate Pencil family. He has always loved my sister and her family but living with them has taken that up another notch or two him. He has not been alone once this week. He is possibly the happiest he has ever been and if he could talk it would be to ask if he could stay here when we move out
  3. Mr Pencil seems way less stressed living in this house, it may or may not be that he and my brother-in-law have been known to indulge in a post work drink or two together. Either way they get on really well and it’s like living with a  friend – except ones that get called out a lot (being a doctor on call is shit – I have realised that).
  4. I have not cooked a meal in forever.
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  6. I am about to move into a simply stunning home.
  7. I am truly and absolutely blessed to have a sister who did not hesitate to take us all in with such grace and generosity even if she is highly allergic to dogs and Fluffy Pencil licks her feet as she attempts to eat dinner. It’s hard to take in 3 houseguests and a dog but every single member of her family have been amazing – even when I have been grinding my teeth with anxiety.

Phew, that feels better

What’s making you feel happy today?

 

Homeless

There are certain everyday rituals that I cling to – for an anxious neurotic like me they make me feel grounded and safe. They are my comforts, my constants, my luxuries and without them I am er, less comfortable, more anxious and way more unhinged.

I love closing the curtains at the end of the day. The actual act of closing out the day makes me feel cocooned and safe, it signifies the hurry and stress of the day is over and the family are about to be together at home, shoes off and relaxed. The reality is often different because of stupid things like homework and dinner and you know, reality. But somehow I still take comfort in the closing of the day.

Next on my list is a bath – a bath for me is like immersing myself in heaven except I don’t actually believe in heaven but it’s the closest analogy I can think of. I bloody love a bath – it ‘s warm, quiet and provides an ideal reading space.

The last ritual that I must perform at least three time as day is drinking tea. Drinking tea is like the portable version of having a bath except nothing like having a bath at all because the only thing the two things have in common is being warm and liquid.

As you can tell from my creature comforts – I am a home based kind of girl. I love nothing more than being at home with my people and dog around me, if the people are out I am equally happy just being at home with the dog. The only thing better than going home is actually being at home. But for the past 4 weeks I have been homeless.

Our beautiful “old” house is now in the possession of its new owners and although although I keep expecting them to call and say thank you to us for letting them buy the most beautiful home, I think my connection with that house has truly come to its end. The new house, which was going to have a small renovation but is basically being rebuilt because Mr Pencil is a frustrated architect/builder/designer/spender of huge amounts of money and kept changing all the things, was not ready for us to move into and so we came to this temporary accommodation in the home of a beautiful friend.

The oil has excellent wound healing sildenafil professional properties. The good news is that, you can find remedy to gout pain and prescription free levitra reduce its painful symptoms, and prevent it from occurring with the help of Booster capsules. Stress is one of the important factors that discern personalities and determine djpaulkom.tv viagra price occupational achievement. Although your doctor knows the suitability of this pill for your body, it is always better to have a glance about levitra prices what is diabetes and what is exercise. The house does not have curtains which close off the day, the bath is not my own and for some reason, which I am sure the owner will explain on her return, there seems to be no kettle for making tea.

This house is not my home and although I am so deeply grateful to my friend for letting me stay here while we were homeless it is someone else’s home – with someone else’s furniture and plates and cutlery and everything – except a kettle.

Today we went to check out the new house which is meant to be habitable (although not finished) by Tuesday when the person whose house we are staying in comes home, It wont be ready. It is still a building zone. And worse – the woman who owns the house we are staying in is actually coming home two days earlier than I thought she was .

Tomorrow we are homeless again. There is no way we can move into the new house until Tuesday at the very earliest – although our stuff is only coming out of storage the following Thursday. First World Problems

Pass me all the valium. And a stiff drink. For someone whose calm comes mainly from being at home these are the worst of days for me. But they too shall pass.

Thank God for my sister. Three human pencils, one fluffy pencil all descending on my sister’s family for two nights.

The worst letter I could ever receive

It’s been a hideously unsettling few days for my little family. We’ve moved into a temporary house for the next 4 weeks while we wait for the new one to stop being a building site.

It’s not actually a temporary home, it’s someone else’s very permanent home. Just not mine. And it’s hard to live in someone else’s home no matter how gorgeous and lovely and kind those people are.

It’s harder even to pack up everything you have and decide just what it is you’ll need for the 4 weeks you have no access to any of your stuff.

I’ll divert at this point to tell you that I’m the worlds worst packer and have never once got holiday packing right. So the fact that I packed 4 weeks of clothes for myself on a very warm day means that I have nothing to wear in the cold.  Did I mention how cold it is at the moment?

I knew moving would be hard because as I revealed before, I am very bad at change. I don’t like chaos and I hate moving. What I didn’t expect was just how anxious it would make me.

On Saturday (the day we took our “stuff” to the temporary house) I became so anxious I could feel my insides unfurling.  I actually needed to hug myself to keep them in. I would have asked my husband but I don’t think I was behaving in a way that warranted hugging.

This was all  BEFORE I went to pick up sushi for us for lunch and the lid of the miso soup came off the container and souped up everything including my mood.
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To add to it all I still have lingering symptoms of flu. And diabetes.

But the very worst thing about moving was something that I never ever expected – a letter from my new temporary neighbours

letter h

This is the worst letter I could ever receive. Ever. And it may be the reason I am never leaving the house again.

If you are looking for me I will be at home hugging the dog

So yes, this week has been a blast.

I’m falling apart

roof

Exhibit A : the house is not ready for us to move in

“I’ve had an epiphany” my husband screams from the bedroom as I fret in the lounge. I am siting at my computer reading the invoice from the removals company for perhaps the 18th time that day. It is around 9am.

“What kind of epiphany?” I manage to mutter thinking for sure he’s going to say something about the joinery that he has been designing for the new house. I brace myself for him to tell me that the extra 2mm he’s “epiphanised” will make the cupboards even better.

But no.

“I understand why you’re so anxious about moving” he says. “It’s your childhood, it all makes sense to me now”.
But it doesn’t. Mr Pencil can blame my childhood for a lot of things but he doesn’t realise that all people get stressed about moving. Or don’t they?
[Read more…]

Getting close to building date.

The building project we are about to embark on is thisclose to happening. Every day we hear that the complying development certificate that we need to start will be ready the next day. We have amassed a following of people to nag the certifier including the draftsman and the builder and if we haven’t nagged them into submission it should be ready tomorrow. Or Monday. Or Tuesday. But it was meant to be ready last Wednesday.

I think that the council with all its red tape, bureaucracy and numbered forms actually help would be renovators and builders prepare for their projects by adjusting them, very quickly, to the fact that everything takes a long time and there will be endless days of absolutely no progress.
[Read more…]

This isn’t going to plan.

 

My day as Project Manager of the “big scary” renovation did not go well yesterday. It didnt’ go well at all and even though I constantly complained about how badly it was going, I was not fired.

It started when I went to the empty new house in the morning to meet the wardrobe man for a quote. I didn’t remember whether I was meeting him at 9:00 or 10:00 so I decided to take my laptop and get there early just in case. I tried to use my iPhone as a hotspot when I realised I had 9% battery power and no charger. So I fell asleep (this is my best way of dealing with stress.)

I woke up at 10:40 and the wardrobe company had still not arrived. I tried to call them which is when I realised that I didn’t know their number. Or their name. (I told you I am not a good Project Manager). So, I did what I always do when things don’t go according to plan – I phoned my husband and complained. He phoned the wardrobe company for me, because he had their number, then he phoned me back and told me they were scheduled to come at 2pm.

I had wasted my morning sleeping. Except no sleep is a waste (or so I told myself).
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I had a few things to do before going back to the empty house to meet the joiner so I decided to leave my laptop there and get the stuff done.

I arrived back at empty house just in time to meet the joiner who was coming to quote on the same stuff as the wardrobe man , just half an hour earlier. He arrived with the builder and I felt like I was on top of my game, so much so that when the builder suggested that the joiner take a photo of the plans I said quite emphatically “No, don’t worry about that! Take this copy, I have it on email I don’t need it”.

And as they drove away I realised that it was the only copy I had for the wardrobe man who I was due to meet in 15 minutes. My current house is not far from my new house so I raced home to print the plans again. Except when I got home I realised that my laptop was at the new, empty house.

And that my dear readers, is just part of the reason that I am a very shit project manager and will probably never have cupboards.

I’ve been forced to mainline Nutella

We recently bought a new house for which I am eternally grateful. It is a beautiful home and I can see myself playing with my grandchildren in the garden in billions of years time. That’s how long I plan to live there

We bought this stunning new house for a couple of reasons, one being that I was completely averse and almost criminally opposed to doing a renovation to existing house. I don’t like change, I don’t like mess and I don’t have even a smidge of patience. I also have perceptual problems meaning that I can’t read plans, I can’t imagine finished rooms and I don’t “read” drawings. To top it all I am so bad at math that I’ve developed a pathological hatred towards numbers so when people start talking about 2 metre walls or 1600cm spaces between neighbours I stick my hands over my ears and sing “nyah nyah nyah” (unless someone is watching then I just imagine doing it). I don’t get it.
[Read more…]

The end is in sight

As my regular reader knows, I have been renovating.  Well not me actually – I have just been wringing my hands and suffering from tension headaches and a neck so stiff that I have to wear a rear view mirror on a visor to see what is happening behind me.

And now the renovation is nearly over. In fact it is so close to completion that I can almost smell it.  That could however be the smell of wet paint or wood glue or sadly even the compost they have laid over my lawn.  Yes, I have lawn.

It has been an exhausting process for my husband to project manage the build, work a more than full time job and console and placate me when I fall apart over the architrave choices and individual shutter slat sizes, but he has done it admirably and I am deeply in awe of the fact that he is only now falling apart – most men would have crumbled far earlier (particularly when we went over the over budget weeks ago) .  No that was not a typo – we went over the budget more than once.

It has been tedious for Little Pencil who has had to be witness to far to large a display of door handles and light switches for a child of such a tender age.

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It has obviously been a grueling time for the builders because, er they have been building everyday.

And I should be jumping for joy because I can see the finish line and it is shiny and new but all I can think of is the fact that I have to pack and move again.

Brattish much?

We have to move. Quick – pass me a valium

I can hardly breathe. I can’t sit still and I definitely can’t concentrate.   And think?  Not a chance.  My thoughts are all turning to a frantic mess.  A frantic mess all wrapped up in newspaper.  Gulp!

We have to move.

This is a really good thing.  Really. We are renovating our house and I feel privileged, lucky, thrilled, excited and like my life is about to turn into a chaotic mess.  I hate chaos and abhor mess.

The worst thing is that we have to move twice – out while the renovation is being done and back in when it is complete.   Yuggh. Mess and Chaos squared.

I understand that thousands of people move every day and there is a clear end in sight and it will happen and I will survive, but I am the type of person who has to breathe into a  paper bag when the carpets are being cleaned because I cannot stand the sight of the furniture out of place.

My thoughts are consumed with packing and moving.  Mr Pencil has been kind and reassuring and he keeps patting me on the shoulder and saying “baby steps” and all I can think is if we use baby steps we will never move all our stuff.  He has wisely suggested that we use professional packers.  All well and good but how will they doooooo it?

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There is so much stuff.  And in so many places.  And irritatingly we are still getting more.  Even today.  Mr Pencil made me do shopping.  For some reason I cannot fathom he said we still have to eat at home.  We still have to buy dishwashing liquid and tinned tuna and fruit and millions of other items that take up space.  But as I bring the groceries into the car I can’t help feeling stupid – why are we bringing more things in when we just have to take them out?  Can a person not live on take away for a few weeks?

There are cupboards full of memories, papers, boxes, games and trinkets, there are shelves stacked with books, files, folders and ornaments, there is a kitchen filled with food, dishes, cutlery, crockery and appliances and they all have to be packed.  There is our beds and our clothes and Little Pencil’s toys and boxes and boxes of his babyhood stored for posterity. And stuff.  So much stuff.

Earlier today I went to look for something in Little Pencil’s “special drawer”.  This is a drawer next to his bed where he puts “special” stuff.  When I tell you that I went there once to get the nail scissors and once to find his favourite piece of lego and it took me well over 5 minutes to find both items individually – you will understand that “special” to Little Pencil is basically anything that he does not know where else to store.  How are we going to pack all that.  Will we have to box it, will we have to put it in a plastic bag, will we have to burn it?

And I just remembered that I have about 679 photos to put into albums and if I don’t do that soon I will have to pack the photos and the albums separately and for some reason that makes me feel like I cannot breathe. And the plants and the vases and the paintings.  They also make me feel short of breath.  And the thought of packing the laundry makes me feel like I need to clean my brain with bleach.  It is all too much.

I am not even going to mention the garage (aka the storage pit).  In fact as I typed the word garage I swallowed my own vomit.

I may just donate the contents of my house to anyone willing to sort it all out for me.  Or I may just take that valium you are offering me.