It Never Ends

Inspirational song: Chain Gang (Sam Cooke)

One task is blending into another. I can't separate out what I did today that was different than yesterday or the day before it. I have cleaned, packed, moved, plumbed, painted, climbed, shopped, cursed, and napped. At every point I have wanted to give up as much as I've wanted to reach the finish line. We are both exhausted and snapping at each other. It is hard to remember why all of this is worth it. Let me get back to you on that one.

I feel like I should explain a few of tonight's pictures, starting with the admission that yes, that indeed is a picture of Athena in a toilet bowl. Thankfully it was brand new out of the box, and is only being installed now, while I sit a room away typing. I hope the ones of Murray convey how insistent he is that his security blanket must be on his bed with him at all times. It was drying on the deck railing after being laundered, and he gave his daddy a look of woe when it was not present for his nap. Once he got it, he rolled and cuddled in it for a good 30 seconds before settling in. The animals know something is up, but there are three young ones who have never gone through a big move before. I can't tell whether Rabbit has told them what they are in for, or is more like the parent who sees their kid heading for the light socket with a fork and figures they'll learn quickly enough.

It was at least 20 years ago when I started scoffing at the cheaply constructed homes that I saw springing up everywhere, with walls primarily composed of oriented strand board. It looked flimsy to me at the time, but no one seemed to agree with me. Now here I am trying to spruce up a house built in that era, post-OSB, but apparently pre-Tyvek wrap, and I feel vindicated. All around the exterior of this place are places where the OSB was left vulnerable to water in one of the most damp climates in the country. Half our fascia was only held in shape by the paint. Today that man made me climb a ladder to help replace some of the trim out back, where the OSB rotted away. (I do not do heights. This was not amusing to me.) I think I am sticking to my original disdain for this construction theory. From now on it will be pressure treated lumber for me. Or brick. Or concrete. Or granite. Anything is better than composite wood.