Finishing Work Takes Forever

The last pictures you all have seen of the house were taken before we even had sheet rock. A lot has happened since then (aka I kinda slacked off in my picture-taking.)

So, today, I have a few new ones for you.

We’ve got the sheet rock up, the ceiling textured, many of the doors up, flooring almost done, the front door stained, and we still hold on to some semblance of our sanity. I can hardly carry on a conversation at this point in time due to my mind being preoccupied with so many other things. Not more important things, just a jumbled-up mess of details and deadlines. Let me tell ya; it’s utter chaos in there. I want to get away from myself.

The farmer and I have yet to file for divorce. However, we are both a little testy from time to time with each other. We were told that if your marriage can survive through building a house together, you’re solid after that. And in all actuality, building this house together has been fun.

For me, anyway.

He’s more of the work horse. For every 3 nails he drives, I can drive one.

And it’s usually crooked.

But, I do try. I actually kind of enjoy putting all the nails in the cement board for the tile we lay. It doesn’t matter that it takes me forever because he’s usually working on something else, anyway. (If you say that fast enough, does it rhyme?)

That picture up there is him using that thingamajig to staple our hardwood. He’s had to hold some of the boards in place and ask me to man it. You have to hit the big black button on top with that hammer. It’s like a construction version of Whack-A-Mole.

I can’t raise up the hammer very high without totally missing the button on the way down.(I’m dying laughing right now out of sheer embarrassment. It’s really very sad.) So, since I don’t raise it up real high, I can’t get enough momentum to hit the button hard enough to drive the staple all the way to where it needs to be. Therefore, I am of absolutely no help to the farmer because he always has to pull the staple and somehow hold the board, hold the gun, and whack it with much more strength than I possess. All I can do (while he gives me one of his “You are unbelievable” grins and shakes his head) is shrug, put one of those teeth-bared cringing faces on, and say “Soooorrrryyyyy” in a really high, really apologetic voice and hope that he finds me somewhat irresistible.

The good thing about all this is that he’s done with the hardwood as of last night.

Here’s a picture of the color. It shows dirt like nothing I’ve ever seen before. There will be absolutely no shoes in the house. Take a look.

It’s called Tuscan Brown and I love it. I’ll love it so much more when the house isn’t under construction anymore and the only thing touching it is sock feet. And no, the interior side of the door is not going to remain mauve. I’m painting it a glossy white. That’s what all the trim in the house is going to be, too.

The color I went with on the walls is called Bagel. It called out to me and said, “You love Panera and my name is Bagel. We should be together.” I agreed. It looks yellow here because this room is very well lit with sunshine. But, it’s more of a warm khaki. Like when you pull them out of the dryer, but not after they cool off. You know…

And then that picture is just lovely because my flash went off and gave the color a very orange tone. I assure you my walls are not orange. Nor are they yellow. However, you can see the interior doors I went with. I really like ’em.

We don’t have any of the trim up yet. I started to paint on the white with a brush and hated how it looked, so we’re just going to spray it on. Brush strokes bring out the OCD in me. The carpet is being laid next Thursday, so I’m really excited about that, but we’ve got to wait a little longer on the cabinets.

I may just move in anyway. Who needs a kitchen?

Almost done but growing increasingly impatient,

The Dairymaid

Copyright. Breauna Krider. 04/19/2012

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