Answer: How ever many days yesterday was.
It feels like a million days but it is probably closer to 120. I believe today officially begins our fifth month of construction and I think I am losing my mind.
Yesterday I was sitting here in my office writing a post just exactly like I am now (except that one was about stress-free holiday travel instead of losing my marbles) and the power went out. The power went out because the electricians decided that it was a good time to finish replacing the panel that they began replacing five weeks ago. I have told them again and again that they can cut the power whenever they want, I just need two minutes advance notice so that I can hit the save button.
They didn’t give me my two minutes notice.
I lost my shit.
I actually stood at the top of my stairs with my hands on my hips as if I were their mother. “I write for a living.” I informed them. “I just lost ANOTHER article. All I need is TWO MINUTES NOTICE IF YOU ARE GOING TO CUT THE POWER SO THAT I CAN HIT SAVE.”
If they were my actual children this would have been the part when I informed them that the money that Daddy and I make is what pays for all of the nice things that we have, but since instead they were just subcontractors I like to think that it was implied that if I don’t get paid it is going to be far less likely that they get paid.
Then again, if these fools cannot properly install a light fixture even though it is part of their chosen profession I am not sure that they can make the three step leap it takes to realize that if my boss doesn’t pay me, I can’t pay their boss and he therefore will be unable to pay them.
YES, I AM ASHAMED OF MY FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS, but I can’t stop myself and I think that is the point. I am also embarrassed that I stood at the top of the stairs scolding people old enough to be my father. I considered apologizing, but then I saw that they left the key in my front door again and I was suddenly no longer sorry.
“Hey Byron,” I said as I came through the door and tried to walk up the stairs covered in random tools “The key is in the front door again.”
“Yeah?” he said. That Byron. He is a real charmer.
“People could just walk by and take it.” I said and then I locked myself in the back of the house again, where I now sit taking deep breaths and trying to convince myself that someday they will finish this job and I will live in a house with a stove that works. This dream house will will not have cups from fast food joints in the downstairs hallway and there will be no drilling sounds. It will have doors that remain closed and light switches that turn lights on and off. This fantasy has me showering between the hours of 8:00 am and 5:00 pm, and getting to drink coffee in my kitchen.
In my lovely new kitchen.