Where's the Tylenol?

You know what's a bad idea? I could give you a million, at least 100,000 of them born of personal experience; but here's one in particular. Ripping out carpet and installing new carpet two weeks before Christmas is a bad idea. A bad, bad idea.

In and of itself, of course, carpet installation is not a bad idea. Carpet is a one-day job, assuming that all goes according to plan. It's that "assuming" part that's complicated; that, and the "all going according to plan." Because you never know for sure what's under the old carpet until you rip it out.

You see where this is going, don't you? Remember when I wrote that I'd write again when my house was clean? Oh, the naivete. Right now, I have no carpet and no floor other than concrete in half the house, and the furniture is all jammed into the kitchen and two bedrooms. It's cold and dusty and cluttered. We can't even get to our beds.

Long story short(er), there was a problem with the old parquet that was under the carpet, so we had to rip it out. That was an easier job than I expected. But now we have to clean up the dust and glue and broken parquet, which is another day's worth of work. And the carpet installer is telling me that they can't come back until after Christmas, which I am supposed to host. I know that there are bigger problems than this, but this one seems bad enough right now. I don't like dirt and disorder and disruption and I'm neck-deep in all three. It's Christmas Vacation, and Cousin Eddie just pulled up in the RV.

And you know what? The shitter is full. The shitter is all the way full.

*****
It's the next day now, the next day being Wednesday. So yesterday was Tuesday. It's all a blur. We still have concrete floors in half of our house and furniture in places where God never designed it to go, but things are looking up a bit. My husband took today off and cleaned the floors, which were covered with dust and debris from yesterday's parquet removal adventure. We moved some furniture around, just enough that we can get in and out of the bedrooms. And the kitchen and family room are almost normal, so we have a little oasis of near-order and almost-calm. It's not my ideal household state, but it's a marked improvement over yesterday. Meanwhile, I'm working on gently persuading the carpet installers to try to find room for us in their busy busy schedule. I'm pretty persuasive; and what I lack in persuasion power, I make up for in persistence. I don't know when my house will be back to normal again, but I think it will happen before Santa shoves his fat white ass down the chimney.

*****

So it's Thursday now. I still don't have carpet but they might be able to move our installation date to next week. It's not tomorrow but it's not the day after Christmas either. It's an improvement. It's a move in the right direction. Progress.

I'm writing this on my phone as I stand in the main hallway at Rockville High School, waiting for the auditorium to open. It's concert night and the place is abuzz. Clusters of parents are chatting while young people in black concert dress zip back and forth, instruments in hand and sheet music trailing behind them. The snack bar is selling chips and soda and holiday treats and the booster club is selling raffle tickets. Prize: A Christmas wreath. I bought a ticket. I like wreaths. The auditorium opened, so I looked for my son's name in the program while the lights were still on, and then I found a seat.

*****

It's Saturday now, 10 days before Christmas. After weeks of unseasonable and unreasonable cold, it's in the 50s, which would normally be a very good development. And I'm definitely happy not to be cold. But it's also pouring rain for the second day in a row and it's supposed to rain again all day tomorrow. Everything feels damp and the whole world looks gray and dirty and ragged around the edges. Not Christmas-y at all. Blah. Humbug.

Meanwhile, my house is still a flaming hot mess. I never realized before how much energy I get from being at home. Some people get their energy and creativity come from the outside world. But mine comes from family and familiar surroundings. Orderly surroundings. I woke up this morning and didn't know how to organize my day. Everything seemed out of sorts and it made me tired. Thank goodness for high school swim meets--part of the day was already planned for me, and all I had to do was to get up and out to where I needed to be. And the rest would sort itself out.

We have been sleeping in the spare room, which doesn't sound bad and it actually isn't. The dresser in there is piled high with books and the bed is hemmed in by bookcases and dressers and rolled up area rugs. You have to tunnel your way to the bed but once you get there it's quite cozy. I have been sleeping unusually well. The fortress of furniture makes the room darker and more conducive to sleep. But it's also because the unaccustomed disorder has left me more tired than usual. I'm a hothouse flower. A tired one.

*****

It's Sunday now. I had hoped that the rest of yesterday would sort itself out, and it did. An unexpected last-minute babysitting request from my sister-in-law was just the thing. Toddlers are full of Christmas spirit. And we managed to reschedule the carpet installation, for Wednesday. So I only have to live amid chaos for a few more days. We're going to put the place back together and buy a Christmas tree and and have the hap- hap- happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny fucking Kaye.