cleanup

Oh f@#% it.

So I have a problem, y’all. I can’t pick a carpet. I want to be eco friendly and such, but the only one I can find so far is made with corn sugar polymers. So basically my kids would be walking all over high fructose corn syrup. I have so many issues with corn subsidies in the US that end up stripping the soil to create an overabundance of cheap beef, enough high fructose corn syrup to make us collectively obese and drive up the need for fertilizers and pesticides. And now they want me to buy a carpet made from that shit? Ok, I just decided. I can’t buy a corn fiber carpet.

Wait. Why am I choosing new carpet, do you ask? Did you not just go through renovations and have a terrible experience? Well, let me tell you. That shit got worse.

This is my house.

Ceiling not where we left it

Seriously. No, this is my house.

This used to be my main floor bathroom

This used to be my main floor bathroom

I think I might keep the curtain idea

Reasonably sure we had drywall in our basement just a few days ago. And our living room and our dining room.

Evidently I built up a lot of bad renovation karma complaining endlessly about my contractors. I still think that 6 months is unreasonable to redo two bathrooms, but now I would gladly go back in time and say only kind things about them in order to reverse the bad juju hex they put on me. The plumber came to do the final, final, final installation of the tap on the clawfoot tub. I was excited to come home and take photos of the completed bathroom and finally take a bath in my tub on a cool rainy day. The kids were drowsy and would go down for a nap. But something was odd; I couldn’t get the front door open and the roof over the porch was leaking. I finally wedged the door open and my motherfucking ceiling was hanging down into a puddle and water was pouring out of the light fixture. Needless to say, the tap installation went horribly wrong. I am not going to get into that because there is a mountain of blame to pass around to a few people and if I think about it too much I am going to start feeling all stabby again.

I locked the kids back in their carseats. I rushed in to try to find the water main shut off and checked out all those precious mementos that should be safely locked away in a safe deposit box. They weren’t, and I was minutes away from losing all of our photos, my kids baby stuff and all those things that you should take better care of. Now they’re in a pile of boxes in my kitchen that I will probably never unpack. I grabbed my laptop so I could get our insurance info: note, not a smart place to put this in case your internet is out.

The dogs were locked in their crates getting rained on in the basement, so I let them out and shoved them outside. They promptly ran away. I don’t blame them one bit; that’s what I felt like doing too. So while I was on the phone with insurance I had to keep randomly yelling “MAEBY, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE” like a demented, indecisive dog trainer. Eventually I was in a standoff with one dog at one end of the street and one at the other, neither budging. I couldn’t go back in to get dog treats, so I rifled through the van to see what was available. I found a peach and held it out to either dog. Neither was willing to get within 10 feet of me, probably out of fear that I would lock them in for more water torture. I set the peach on the ground. Willis couldn’t resist and slunk toward the peach, grabbed it, and ran away. So now I still had two dogs on the loose and I was down one peach. I hope our insurance adjustor was used to salty language.

My husband finally got home and corralled the dogs and then promptly proceeded to reach the same level of freak out panic that I was at. I ran to find a neighbor to watch the kids and dragged my poor neighbor’s mother in law out of their house and ran around trying to grab things.. anything. Just things. Then I threw things in the van with the kids and the dogs and fled to the safety of my parents house, abandoning my husband to defend us against the evil plumbers and the spectacular fight over insurance.

Things have basically gone downhill from there and we find ourselves homeless for months and having to make a lot of decisions. I am decisioned right the fuck out already, so I am not sure how this is going to work out.

So basically focusing on bourgeois problems like the source of carpet fibres and corn subsidies is keeping me from bursting into tears in the liquor store because we are homeless and I am sleeping in my parents unfinished basement. Ok, I totally burst into tears at the liquor store today, but thinking about carpet kind of helped me keep it under wraps.

And here's me on a toilet in my kitchen. That's a future gauge for whether your day is working out as planned. Toilet in kitchen = not working out, generally. I don't know, maybe you do want a toilet in your kitchen. It's my gauge then.