When the workmen leave, it’s time for a head count. Actually, we do head counts throughout the day; at the end, we’re pretty sure everyone’s here.
And always, someone gives us a scare. You might think that would be Tessa, and she’s done that a time or two. This time it was Olivia. Couldn’t find her for a long while and just about the time we thought we’d pass out from hyperventilating with fear, a little lump under the sheets moved.
“That’s not Quint,” we said in unison. “Quint’s on that side.”
It was Olivia. She never goes under the blankets but there she was. “All’s clear, sweet Olivia,” we called out and finally, she wandered out as though nothing had happened.
“. . . and it’s going to be noisy all day while those workers tear apart the bathroom, so we need you all to be aware of tha . . . Olivia? Are you even listening? This is going to affect you, too, you know.”
Later after the work began, four cats hid under the bed blankets where Quint makes his daily fort. The odd thing was that this was less than 10 feet away from where the workers were drilling, sawing, pounding, and making sounds with their super vacuum that, from downstairs, sounded like someone playing bad saxophone.
Coordinating workers and plumbers and insurance people has proved to be ridiculously difficult but not quite as bad as the waiting has been for ANYTHING to happen. Mom’s not generally a patient person when things like this occur, meaning things that need fixing and especially when she can’t get her hands in there to fix it herself. Waiting for paperwork to be just right on someone else’s timeline drives her bonkers, and leads to much hair-pulling.
But now, something’s started. Teensy-tiny baby steps. Our primary bathroom is half-gutted. The shower valve leak was just an old, 22 year old valve that finally failed. A pinhole leak, actually, that sprayed a fine stream off to one side, drenching everything and still is (though the stream has been re-directed into another bucket).
Next week, our plumber finally has a free schedule to come fix the leak. And then, more waiting for the ordering, purchasing, and delivery of replacement parts followed by more waiting for drywallers, tile setters, and again, the finishing plumber’s schedules to coordinate with our work schedules to get things closer to completion. Mom’s surfing the Internet looking for hair styles that will work with her half-bald head.
Someday, we’ll look back and laugh at all our worry and handwringing. Not today but we are breathing a wee bit easier. And looking forward to the cats forgiving all.
2021 – No post 2020 – Around Colehaus 2019 – No post 2018 – No post 2017 – No post 2016 – Why Not Wednesday 2015 – Toy Patrol 2014 – No post 2013 – No post 2012 – No post
*whispers* Here we find a rare Fort Quint burrowed deeply in his lair, but with a touch of curiosity. He listens as workmen rip and tear through a nearby structure much like this Fort Quint will attack his Fancy Feast later in the day when calm and quiet once again settles upon the plain.
The new visitor we mentioned last Friday is a handsome, shiny boy we’ve named Tippy because 1) he has a tipped ear (our first tipped ear visitor ever!), and 2) we have no originality or creative brain cells left. That’s what home repair will do to ya.
Tippy will come within four feet of Mom but no closer. She says he looks very healthy and she has little doubt he’s neutered, making us very happy. He loves chicken catnip treats and comes around from our right side backyard corner almost every day after 3pm. We bet his fur is as thick and plush as it appears and we look forward to getting to know him better.
