One small step toward remodel. One giant move of my cheese.
Wednesday, my husband was not driving into Atlanta for work. I rejoiced. That meant I could sleep later than 6:09 a.m.
Only at 6:57 a.m. I woke up to bumping and huffing and puffing.
When it became evident the pounding was not going to stop, I got up and looked out.
The remodel had begun — as far as my husband was concerned.
No matter I had a friend coming in from Florida to run the Peachtree. We were going to start rearranging our house and moving the heck out of my cheese — NOW.
In looking at this photo, I realized there were a lot of darn alligators in our house. (But that is another post entirely.)
Yes, they took the furniture out of the space that is to be my new kitchen — without even consulting me if I was ready.
They just kept moving my cheese. Piece by piece. Slice by slice. And loading it in a truck.
Never to be seen again.
I wonder if that is why husband started doing this while I was fast asleep?
No air or water for two months?
I really want the back of our house fixed up nice and purty.
I just would rather it be done wiggling my nose, Bewitched-like. Not real-world, real-construction time like.
Pooh.
They took up the carpet and found hardwood underneath.
Yes. The liberation of our house has begun.
And my cheese is bouncing all over the place.
Any suggestions on survival?
