remodeling hell #0.5

Since I seem to have diarrhea of the mouth tonight, perhaps this would be a good time to start my idea of having a blog of sorts involving the house remodel upon which we’ve embarked, semi-willingly.

This post will be the back-story.

Years ago, we purchased the house. We only had it a couple of years when we were beset upon by an army of ninjas. (Wait, wrong back story.)

We only had it a couple of years when our first roommate moved out. We decided this would be a perfect opportunity to remodel the empty bedroom. We had picked out paint colors and a lovely bamboo flooring. We’d ripped out the carpet when we discovered that remodeling is never as simple as it appears on This Old House.
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Our dog is a freak

So, this is our dog:

Our dog is, in the most loving and caring way possible, a freak.

This dog has the most uncanny ability to zero in on anything that might possibly be (or have once been) food, find it, tear it apart, and try to eat it.

She has found such things as yogurt pretzels, peanut butter filled pretzels, leftover bread, bird seed & pellets, and other odd things that I can’t remember right now, taken them down from many places in the kitchen and house, and snacked upon them. Our ‘no food below this level’ line has been rising, and unfortunately it’s now higher than most countertops in the house.

The dog’s most recent gastronomical exploit was this weekend, when she found a quarter of a cheese pizza that was closed up in its box on the stove. She managed to pull down the entire box, flip it upside down, and devour the contents. We found the little white plastic thing that gets put in the center of pizzas to hold the lid up at the other end of the house, licked clean.

This was after she was kept awake all night by a slumber party of sugar-enhanced 10 year olds held at our house (reasoning: well, the house is torn up anyway, they can’t do much more to it); perhaps this was her hangover cure. “Ow my head. Pizza? OK!”

She’s a good dog. But a freak. (And she’s going to have to stay inside while the roofers do their thing all week. Eeeee….)

frazzled by a roof?

So as part of a whole chain of events, involving remodeling and a roof leak, among other may-you-live-in-interesting-times life occurrences, we’re getting a new roof on the house. Which for the most part is a good thing.

However, I come home today to find a couple of messages on the machine. They’re both from the roofer, saying “Hey, we’re going to come out tomorrow to start the tear-off. Is that OK?”

Well yes, but the lack of actual notice (I didn’t have any dates other than
“when we get all the materials in” for when things would start) kind of throws
a crimp in things, if only because I have to clear out the yard, make sure the inside is dog-safe, and make sure there’s power and sodas/water available for the roofers. Then I have to request a couple of days off work (or to work from home) to watch the birds in case they have any reactions to the odors from whatever sealants and such they’re going to use.

I’m good with it for the most part. I think it was just the sudden transition from waiting to MOVING that made me frazzled.

But I think everything’s OK now. I will be happy when it’s done, and it will be
a nice, professionally done roof. Yay.