We're closing on a home equity loan this afternoon, which means our long national nightmare can now begin.
We're redoing our kitchen. New cabinets, floors, countertops, sink, etc. I'm even getting a pantry, something I have always, always wanted. Possibly even more than offspring.
But only recently did it occur to me that I have to completely empty out every cabinet and drawer before demolition begins. (Demolition! In my very own house!) Where am I supposed to put everything? (Our condo is tiny.) Soup and dry goods on the windowsills? Plates on the dining room table? Glasses stacked precariously on the TiVo?
At the same time, we're replacing the carpet on the stairs and upstairs bedroom with hardwoods. (The "upstairs bedroom" is actually the "entire upstairs," as our condo is, again, tiny.) This is the same carpet, as some long-time readers may recall, that we've been talking about replacing after multiple puppy potty-training accidents and one bizarre week of feline temper tantrums after we switched kitty litter brands.
And again, it only recently occurred to me that all our bedroom furniture will have to be moved downstairs, and that we (which includes me, the achy, whining, pregnant woman) will be sleeping on our sleeper sofa in the meantime, surrounded by groceries and cutlery.
Also at the same time, we're replacing the vanity and sink in our bathroom, as it is fourteen different kinds of nasty. It may even be nastier than the piss-stained carpet.
Also also at the same time, we're starting work on the nursery, which is currently a Room O' Junk. (FYI: the nursery is the only room where I mean "we" will actually be doing actual work. All other home improvement projects that "we" will be doing will be done by people to whom we're paying large amounts of money.)
We've already bought the paint and primer. (Who thought it would be a good idea to paint a room that would eventually be used as a nursery dark red? Who? Oh right, me.) We've bought dropclothes and a masky thing for me and we've planned lofty artistic things with Jason's mother, who is a professional painter/decorator/Martha Stewart and we must get it painted before we order furniture and holy shit, I have to buy a crib? I am not ready to buy a crib. Am I actually having a baby or something?
Oh finally: We have no place for all the junk currently residing in the Room O' Junk, have no idea what to do with any of it (especially as 90% of our [tiny] condo will be in transitional shambles for the next couple months), and actually got into a fight this week about the fate of our ironing board.
"Where are we going to put the ironing board?"
"We'll have to keep it in our bedroom somewhere."
"It'll be in the way if we just stick it somewhere."
"Well, MAYBE we'll have to start behaving like GROWN-UPS WHO IRON THEIR CLOTHES BEFORE HANGING THEM UP AND WHO ALSO PUT THE DAMN IRONING BOARD AWAY WHEN THEY ARE NOT USING IT."
"STOP YELLING AT ME."
"I AM NOT YELLING."
I really have no idea why we never thought to do home improvements before. This is fun!