Demolition Derby

Wally calls the night before the demolition starts to go over a few details. I tell him I am a nerveen about the cat. I am hopeless. He tells me that after the first day, he'll have the kitchen closed off and kitty can have the run of the house.

Somehow I am relieved. I don't know why I am so nervous for the damn cat. A year ago she was living outside in the elements and scrounging for food in a dumpster. Puh-lease. I have turned her into a pampered putty in my mind. She likes the rafters of the dusty 100 year old basement. Why am I worried that the the beautifully remodeled third floor will feel like jail? 

Still, the next morning, I confine her to the third floor after luring her there with tuna and treats.  She barely notices when I close the door behind me and leave. I have a pang of guilt not unlike when I used to leave the kids at day care, distracted by their French Toast Stix. I practically need a nerve pill.

Scott agrees. I need a nerve pill. He has much better perspective.  He with 20 to 30 some odd pets in his life and  fatalistic acceptance that sometimes pets will not be happy with you. Too bad. And sometimes they die and get buried in a hole in the yard.  You miss them and get another pet. I have no such backbone. I want to cry.

I am, in spite of myself,  thrilled to see what progress is made while I toil away at work.

I get home 8 hours later and am not so much thrilled as I am shocked.

My kitchen was not charming to begin with. It is much less so in a state of deconstruction. 

The cabinets are gone. The floor is partially removed exposing two and three prior floors in some areas. The removal of the back splash has left ugly uneven divots in the walls. Several competing and clashing shades of green and turquoise are exposed where cabinets and other things used to be. A pipe sticks out of the floor where my sink used to be. Huge gashes in the plaster expose some kind of crumbly material. 

Frankly, I am freaking out.

Wally calls.

"Liza, you have a couple of problems."

He may as well have said he accidentally burned the place down.

With a racing heart and sweaty palms I listen.

"I found your ant problem. There was a huge nest over to the left of the rear window."

I am cringing.  I am sure he never found ants in Charlotte's house.

"Anyway, I sucked it all up in my vacuum so they're gone for good."  Gotta love a man. Had it been me, I'd have left and run down the street never to return, doing the "Get It Off Me Dance" the entire time.

"And you had the windows replaced didn't you?" 

"Umm, yeah. Why?"  I hold my breath and realize I've closed my eyes, bracing myself.

"Oh, well, there was a little moisture damage right under that window. I can fix it before we put the counter back, and I'll caulk so it doesn't happen again. I just wanted you to be aware."

"OK. What else?"

"Oh, that's it for now. We'll get your floor out of there tomorrow and get working on your lights and outlets. Just giving you an update."

I audibly exhale in relief.

And then I find the collection of stuff Wally found behind my cabinets.

It is like he's found my diary and read it.