Act One:Porch conversion begins, after years of planning and waiting.
Much tearing out and piling up of old materials into unsightly masses of non-recyclable Stuff. Thousands spent on carefully-sourced materials.
Much enthusiasm all around! Trepidation about impending Winter only increases determination to forge ahead!
Act Two:Phone conversation with builder reveals diagnosis of carpal tunnel and doctor's orders to Not Use Arm.
Director's Note: after reading your lovely comments this evening, I must clarify; it's the builder who is having terrible trouble with his arm...not me! Very sorry for the ambiguity. I appreciate all the kind thoughts, though! And I will redirect them to the builder, in hopes they will speed his recovery!
Act Three:I do the chores.
Because Act Two was earlier this morning, and I don't know what will happen next.
(Clearly I could have said that last thing yesterday, as well.)
A search for that rare creature - a carpenter willing and available to take on a project midway - has begun.
Note:I have nothing but sympathy for the builder. Empathy, even, since the reason I hired him is that my construction abilities are now limited to the point of non-existence by my own pain issues.
Of course, as you know, I also have a lot of time, money, and hope - oh, the hope! - invested in a project that needs to be done as quickly as possible, working around the weather.
Tell me something: did you think things were getting too dull and predictable around here? Because I can't say I had noticed that. I thought Winter sitting on my shoulder while I searched out a window caulk that can be applied at 20 degrees F was Drama Enough.
Nope! Drama Level is definitely cranked up a few notches now. No panic, but frequent moments of deep meditative breathing.
And now I'm going to go fetch some hay. Which always makes me feel productive and successful and accomplished. (I am easy.)
~~~One more edit, added this evening...
when I picked up the hay, I got another piece of unwelcome news:
the farmer I buy my hay from won't have enough to get any of his customers through the Winter. It's been a tough year for hay; the second in a row, actually. Everyone who buys their hay (as I do) will be scrambling soon if they are not already.
Still. Refusing. To. Panic.
Just stubborn, I guess.