I am adrift in a velvet vastness, alone on my own tiny planet. A roaring mass hurtles towards me. I catch sight of the barest twinkle as it thunders past, then all is once again still, save for the sound of the Milky Way spilling over it's little waterfall. Was it a shooting star I glimpsed? Nah, it was just a car up on the highway. I'm sitting on the porch, just before sunrise, and the fog is thick as grits this morning. I can just see the outlines of the trees that are right up next to the porch, but beyond that, nothing but grey.
Good news - we finally have a roof! Unfortunately, they haven't refinished the floors or repaired the water-damaged walls, so we are still camping out downstairs in the guest room, and everything from upstairs is still sitting in the rented container out on our driveway, in the blazing August heat. I'm pretty sure I now have a bunch of melted make-up in one of my dresser drawers, but I can't remember if I left a bar of dark chocolate in my desk or not. I have visions of John unlocking the doors on the container, when at last the floors are dry, and having a molten mass of glass and plastic come oozing out at his feet. Guess that would help solve the dilemma of how we are ever going to fit two houses worth of stuff into just this one. The contractor stopped by yesterday and said the floor guy should be here on Monday, and it should only take him two or three days to refinish the floors, then his wall crew can come in and finish up. Now John has visions of us coming back up here next weekend and spending Labor Day (how appropriate) moving everything back into the house. I say, don't hold your breath.
Good news - we finally have a roof! Unfortunately, they haven't refinished the floors or repaired the water-damaged walls, so we are still camping out downstairs in the guest room, and everything from upstairs is still sitting in the rented container out on our driveway, in the blazing August heat. I'm pretty sure I now have a bunch of melted make-up in one of my dresser drawers, but I can't remember if I left a bar of dark chocolate in my desk or not. I have visions of John unlocking the doors on the container, when at last the floors are dry, and having a molten mass of glass and plastic come oozing out at his feet. Guess that would help solve the dilemma of how we are ever going to fit two houses worth of stuff into just this one. The contractor stopped by yesterday and said the floor guy should be here on Monday, and it should only take him two or three days to refinish the floors, then his wall crew can come in and finish up. Now John has visions of us coming back up here next weekend and spending Labor Day (how appropriate) moving everything back into the house. I say, don't hold your breath.
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