Kitchen Project. Day 12.

They are still here, but I'm going to start this post.

I spent most of the day out of the house today.  In the morning I babysat for a Bible Study Fellowship leadership meeting.  It was a very easy gig, two workers and two little baby boys.  One of the babies got fussy, so maybe it wasn't as easy as it sounds.

After that, I went to Meijer.  My plan was to buy more coffee for Shawn, and to try to get a cheap manicure, because two of my fingernails had torn and I wondered if they could be saved.  I arrived at the store, and the nail salon was closed.  So I walked through the aisles and bought kefir, yogurt, salad fixings and ingredients for crockpot-chicken-lentil-chili.  Upon arriving home, I realized that I had forgotten Shawn's coffee.  So I failed to complete either of my original goals.

Sigh.

Then, this afternoon, I had to take Piper to the vet.  Unwisely, I also took Schubert, not wanting to leave him home alone with the workers.  If you have ever struggled with a screaming, miserable infant for hours while waiting to see your pediatrician, you have some idea what I went through with these dogs at the vet today.  If they could do a surgical "bark"-ectomy, I would take Shubert in for the procedure immediately.

When we had finally finished the vet-appointment-of-eternal-punishment, we went out to pay.  Just as we entered the waiting area from the exam room, another lady, a Model Dog Owner, entered from outdoors.  Her dog was perfectly groomed and perfectly behaved.  It pranced on delicate feet and looked haughtily away from us as Schubert embarked on another frenzy of skull-shattering yelps.  Piper joined with his harsh monotone expectoration of noise (he's mostly deaf).  I tried to apologize to the Model Dog Owner, and she gave me a look that said, "Some people.  Why do you even have a dog, if you aren't going to train him and control him?"  She took her dog outdoors to avoid us.

I waited yet another eardrum-blasting eternity for the receptionist to get off the phone.  Finally she looked up at me and, over the din of my dogs, asked my name.  Lip reading ensued: How do you spell it?  What is the dog's name?  Do you have an appointment?  She could not find me in the system.  Finally she asked with annoyance, "What are we trying to do here, anyway?" 

A feeling rather akin to hatred welled up in me, and I cast pretenses of civility aside.

"I am trying to pay," I said, biting my lip and (surprisingly) choking back tears, "so we can go home."

Piper, however, has up-to-date shots and two new heart medications.

I missed most of the work at home today.  The muscles in my head, neck shoulders and upper arms are rather tight.

There is one carpenter, a very tall, lanky guy, who seems to head up a lot of the work.  He is young and polite, and he listens to country music, singing along (on tune).  I don't know much country music, but just now the radio was crooning out "Can I Have this Dance for the Rest of my Life?" by Anne Murray.  It brought a little grin to the corners of my mouth.

They are working on the floor.  Right now they are placing sub-floor, not the actual floor.

But they have not mudded the new ceilings and walls that they patched and hung last week.  I really, really wish they would finish the drywall work before they lay the floor.  I know how messy this gets.  I don't want the mess on my brand new floor!

I am in agony.  I don't know whether to say something, or if I would just annoy them.  "Stupid woman," they might think. "When has she ever done any of this kind of work?  What does she know about it?  How come she thinks she can tell us how to do our job?"

Also, it is getting to the point where soon I will be afraid to post pictures because I fear that people will think the elements I have chosen for my kitchen are dumb and ugly.  I feel self-conscious and insecure.