Domestic Bliss Report

Motherhood is hard work. If we don't stick together, we'll all fall apart.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

At last it's over.

This week has proven challenging. At least the kids have been healthy and well-behaved.

Monday: prep for the painters to do the kitchen. You know, the most frequently used room in the house. Just about everything in there had to be moved or removed. Fun.

Tuesday: The painters were here, rendering the kitchen unusable for the most part. The fridge still worked, so it wasn't a complete catastrophe. One of them commented, "Your hot water tank is leaking. You're really going to want that addressed before you get the floor done." Turns out, the painter is also a prophet. Nuts.

Wednesday: In the morning, we recover from the day before, attempting to put most things back where they belong and catch up on chores. In the afternoon, we go to the park for a few hours. As we're leaving the park, Madeleine pulls Rachel to keep her out of what she perceives is the street (it's actually a paved walk). This results in nursemaid's elbow, which she has a propensity for. Then the trip to the pediatrician to get it fixed, and I get some release time with other moms at someone else's house for the evening.

Thursday: The plumber comes to install the new hot water heater. After making clucking noises and concerned "hmms" for ten minutes, he tells me he has to call the office to see if he can even do this job. Seems there's a "problem" with the venting. Which would result in another, oh, $1000 worth of time and supplies. He comes back in with the same look Harry Truman must have had with the decision to drop the bomb--"they said don't touch this job." Great.
I escape to my sympathetic neighbor's, and she manages to help put things in perspective, make me laugh, and offer her husband to install the floor when that time comes.

Friday: It's a festival of phone calls. Where is the electric hot water heater? Are they at the house yet? Turns out "we" ordered the wrong one; we need a tall which will be two weeks. We (okay, Dale) decide to cancel and look elsewhere for someone who might have one lying around. [edit: This was also the day the electricians came to install the 220 line for the theoretical hot water heater.] Dale calls his parents to confirm that we wouldn't be making it up for the family reunion this weekend and describes the troubles we're having. His dad says, "Hey, I've got a 40-gallon one I could bring down." Will it fit? Yes. Thank you, St. Joseph. Then we just need to find an installer.

Who left about 45 minutes ago and spent most of his time singing merrily to himself, without a single sound of concern or befuddlement. Enjoy your pool, sir; my husband certainly will enjoy his hot shower.

And how was YOUR week?


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