"Bonnie what are you bitching about. You're getting a new kitchen and master bath, right? It's all worth it so just stop complaining."
Clearly, you can't begin to fathom what it's like to live in my brain. The amount of self restraint I've had to muster these 8 weeks has been astounding. I have had to live in a dust-filled, plastic covered, tool strewn construction zone with no privacy and no happy place for over 60 days. You try having strangers in your house all day everyday, coming and going, dragging in dirt and bags of McDonalds for 1 week and let me know how that works out for you. Then do it from the perspective of someone who can't live in chaos without getting heart palpitations. And then do it for 2 months!!
But I did it! I had a meltdown at the end of week #4; my husband bore the brunt of that one. And I haven't had one until today. Tomorrow A is supposed to be done. He even gave himself a 2pm finish time. I'm looking at everything and I'm seeing another week of work. I can't live like this another 24 hours; I'm coming out of my skin!
Is it beautiful? Yes. Do I love it? Yes. Have there been any major problems? No. Would I do it again for another project? Not if I have to live in the house while it's happening. I'm not strong enough to do this twice.
I own the fact that this is all on me. No one is making me lose my mind. It's just that this situation plus my mental make-up equals crazy lady.
Thought I couldn't get any deeper into the freakout pool?... I've invited guests for dinner tomorrow night. That's right, tomorrow night! And friends for lunch next week. And why don't we top the whole thing off with my daughter's Communion Weekend next weekend where we're going to host our immediate, all out-of-state, family of 35, several of whom I'm already anticipating will be inspecting my kitchen's every detail and commenting (that's a whole other post). Am I subconsciously trying to commit suicide? Because that's certainly what it sounds like.
I'd pray for strength, but I don't have the strength to. Best part about paddling my wooden rowboat in a lava river is that I can't figure out how to fix it. That's always been my forte - problem solving. I'm the person to call if you need a fire put out and here I am with my oars on fire. Talk about losing it!
It's supposed to be over by tomorrow. But then there is the clean-up and man is there a lot to clean up. And let's not forget dinner for 7. Somebody pinch me. This has all been some sugar induced late-night panic attack and I need to wake up!
Excuse me... my stomach is hurting again.