plasterer, locksmith, candlestick maker
This week, our house has had a continuous stream of construction-oriented visitors. First, there was a carpenter--he did drywall fixes to ceiling holes, among other things. Then, hot on his heels, the plasterer came. The plasterer now visits me for about one to two hours a day, working on the 2nd and 3rd floor ceilings. He is making those ceilings look good for the painter, who might come next week. (So far, I've heard that I'll be seeing the plasterer again on Monday and Tuesday, so the painter might come to visit after that.)
Next Wednesday, weather permitting, the roofers and insulation guys will start work on our roof. They will be able to blow insulation in from the outside because--there are now no holes in our ceilings inside. Whew!
In a separate kind of house repair, we're working with a locksmith that specializes in older houses. In one part of our house, we have a gorgeous lock that we really like--and it is just shy of 100 years old. It needs a little help. That is not related to the ice dam repairs or the roof repair. It just needed fixing at the same time.
Meanwhile, outside of our front door, there is a backhoe digging up our boulevard (the grassy bit between the sidewalk and the street) to install a new gas line for the new building across the street. The ground is not free of frost, so there is a complicated process of banging and digging going on. Also, they appear to have a big tube on a truck that blows hot air at the ground. The tube makes a loud droning noise that reminds me of the driers at an old fashioned beauty parlor.
All this makes me wonder how anyone could manage to fix their house AND work at an office that wasn't at home. I have moved my laptop and my current freelance job to the living room, where I can easily answer the front door and cope with the stream of folk coming and going. I never know exactly when they will arrive, when they will finish, or who might come next.
On one hand, I am thrilled that all this work is getting done before the stork arrives. It is amazing how quickly the tradespeople made this work when they saw my big belly and asked about the twins' due date. (Early June if it were one fetus, but sometime in May for twins, we'd guess, although they come when they are ready, we hear.) That has been miraculous so far.
On the other hand, the chaos, noise, and doorbell ringing is intense. There are a few moments when, seized by irrational hormones, I just want to scream, "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU ARE STRANGERS! GO AWAY!" I've managed to hold this in, believe me.
Yesterday, I spent a long time rifling through my stash to find this. Two skeins of bulky weight burgundy tweed cashmere yarn...purchased 3 years ago, with no real project in mind. In fact, I'm not even sure if they will turn into a project now, as my swollen hands are sore, numb and tingly--making it hard to knit much.
I've placed the cashmere skeins right next to where I am working. Every so often, I grab one and have a reviving snuggle with it. A whiff of luxury and a really soft yarn hug every time I feel out of control...so far, it's working. Something about fiber is very reassuring and comforting to me. Maybe this should be a new method recommended to maintain calm. "Grab cashmere. Inhale its comforting soft smell. Repeat." (sign me up for that cure)