It’s frigid in the Old Lady this morning. The snow is falling outside, and it’s beautiful. But I’m inside, huddled around a space heater, waiting for the delivery of my plumbing fixtures sometime between 7am-10am. (*eyeroll*)
It’s quiet and still, other than the white noise of the space heater; a perfect time for reflection.
She’s come a long way, this Old Lady. She’s got all new electrical and plumbing, soon to have new HVAC. Her guts are shiny and new (and safe!) and we’ve added insulation where we can (fun fact: the animal hair/wood pulp “insulation” is very cool and very rare, but can’t hold a candle to today’s insulation).
And now she has walls again. It feels like a real house again, and after months of having workers coming in and out, disrupting every room and most of the walls, we’re both sighing with the quiet. She feels like she’s mine again.
Don’t get me wrong, there is still a LOT of work to do. Painting, cabinets, electrical and plumbing fixtures, tile, flooring, and more. And that’ll all bring in another army of people to complete the work. But right now, in this moment, she’s mine. And she feels like a house again.
My anxiety over the past few weeks has been intense. This house is rarely far from the front of my mind, and when I wake up in the middle of the night my mind immediately starts racing with all the decisions, choices, planning, expense, and myriad things that are involved in this project.
So finding this peace, here and now, is balm for my nerves, and reminds me why I started this monster project in the first place.
Shortly, there will be things to do. My foot is already tapping with impatience as I think of all the things I should be doing. But for now, I’m enjoying the peace and the knowledge that the Old Lady is mine again.
99 Bottles of Wine 'til I'm Done 