Our kitchen is about 90 percent finished, with just some minor things needed. All the appliances are in place and only the dishwasher still needs to be hooked up. PG&E came and took away our old fridge last week.
Since my living room had been cleared of appliances and such, I started the massive project of cleaning the house. Once Olivia went to bed (between 8:30 and 10), I started cleaning. I've been working on the cleaning for about two weeks now. It's so much work! There was this thick layer of dust on EVERYTHING in the house and every single inch of space had to be cleaned.
At some point during the remodel, Louis decided he wanted to get an alarm system. I had no strong opinion at the time, but I have grown to hate the idea of an alarm. I feel like it's such a waste of money and it's such an annoyance.
Today, the cleaning project and alarm install collided and I lost it.
After spending HOURS hand-scrubbing my hardwood floors at the expense of working on midwifery or actually sleeping (I was staying up until 2 am), our alarm installer came in wearing boots and then walked his dirty boots all over the house.
Stupid useless alarm.
He said he needed to run wires in our wall for the control panel. He drilled into my newly cleaned plaster walls and dust dripped all over the floor.
I cried.
Louis basically told me to get out and take a day to myself. I guess my anxiety was driving him crazy as well. I ended up at Stoneridge where I did some clothes shopping with money my grandpa gave me last Christmas. I bought a few things but my retail therapy didn't make me feel much better.
I didn't find anything I loved and I was reminded that being without a proper kitchen hasn't done much for my figure these past few months. Listening to the radio on the way home, I couldn't find anything good to listen to and realized I don't even know what kind of music I like anymore. Everything I listen to now has animal sounds in it.
It was definitely a "poor me" kind of day. What made it worse was that I knew how ridiculous I was being by complaining about a brand new kitchen and the fact that I am super privileged and how dare I cry over something so stupid as holes in the wall. I had my little pity party and headed home.
I picked up a sandwich from Togo's on my way home. The guy who made it wrapped up my sandwich and told me he put extra love in there, because it looked like I needed it. Geez, how pathetic am I? I was very grateful for the niceness, though.
I thought my labor was long and painful, but I think the house remodel is worse. It truly feels like it will never end. I must confess that I don't love the kitchen yet. It's like when a woman has a really traumatic birth and sometimes she doesn't want to hold or bond with her baby right away. I haven't bonded with my baby yet. The labor was just too difficult. I think it will take me some time before I love it.
I just want life to get back to normal.
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