25 April – 15 October 2017 – A Hidden Gem

Friday, 13 October 2017

I’m going to  pace myself” I said.  I need to make life easier, I thought. Less work, less stress, more time for the family.

Six months later and here I am, living in a renovation project, surrounded by builders on my day off, watching them re-plaster almost every wall  on  the ground floor level of the house, responding  to  the calls of “Mummy” from  upstairs with  repeated promises of “I’ll be there in  two minutes sweetie” whilst  trying  to  order wall brackets before  the store sale ends.  When I do put down the phone, it immediately rings with a query from the office.

Where did that plan  go wrong?  In April, Hubby and I decided we needed more living space for a home office.  This would make life easier for me in  the future when I feel run down; and enable me to carry  on working  without  missing  treatments.  Also, sometimes it’s easier to concentrate on  the four binders of evidence I’m reading when I’m in my own home (on a comfortable sofa, whilst wearing  my slippers) rather than in a busy environment (whilst wearing  heels).

Hubby’s job requires him  to work from  home too, so we started the  house search  together and fell in love with an old Edwardian house.  The perfect  size to enjoy  family  life and to have a separate work space.  Kirstie and Phil (presenters on a really good home search programme on UK TV) would have called it a “hidden gem”. I now know that phrase actually means something that is rare, hard to find and a load of grief to make into something beautiful. During  the  first  viewing,  the house was perfect; the sun was streaming though the huge windows and illuminating the period rooms with high ceilings.  During the second viewing, we saw the cracks in  the walls, the toilet that didn’t work and the damp; and then, the surveyor found the rest.

We still bought it.  We loved it.  There’s nothing  that we can’t plan for, right?  Hard  work now will pay  off for the rest  of our lives, right?

Sometimes my thoughts take over. In  my  head there is nothing  that I can’t do (apart from  flying and travelling  by Tube, which I still do waver about).  I know I have CF; I’m generally  coughing as I’m thinking but  I just don’t factor it in.  I will do  it anyway, so  there!  Usually friends and family give me a reality check (usually Little Sis).  This  time the family  loved the house too,  so  off I went on a journey  in  my head.

I can order period relevant antiques from eBay to fill  the space, right?  If  they need stripping  down and waxing, I can do  that.  If  they need painting I can do  that  too (I can  sort the actual collection  of the antiques at a later date right?  Erm… Hubby?  … Dad?)

I can tile the bathrooms myself; I’ll learn how  to during  the weekends and then start  the work when I know I can do  it.  It  can  be a hobby.  We can  just get  the walls  re-plastered and  painted  until  then.  It will be fun and rewarding to see the  house  change because of us.

As I type this, (in my bedroom because the downstairs is currently unusable), I need to  pause  to bang my head against my bedroom wall.  There is no  doubt  that I will learn  how to tile the bloody bathrooms and I will do  it (even  if it  is just  the downstairs toilet) but I do  now get  how ridiculously annoying I  must  be.

The move took forever. We sold  our house in  two weeks and then I hopped up and down impatiently for the whole of the summer  whilst  the other parties in  the chain danced around the conveyancing process.  The move date was postponed three times, which  means that we have now lived out  of boxes in varying degrees for approximately 6 weeks.    We have the important  things to hand; meds, food, phones, chargers, make up, Jo Malone home fragrance.

Sunday, 15 October 2017

The building works are moving faster than the house move did.  We are nearly at a  point where we can pause.

The bargain Edwardian, marble topped wash unit stands proudly in our bathroom and the waxed and polished antique mirrors are propped against  boxes covered in plastic, ready  for the new walls.

A combination of antibiotics, steroids and buckets of hot tea with  honey mean that this morning  I have been able to enjoy my Sunday  morning  in bed, actually lying down with minimal coughing.  Things were getting a little ropy chest-wise for a while, but I won’t dwell on that.  I have even  managed to finish typing this.  H is snuggled up beside me, watching  me type.

Hubby has just handed me a bacon sandwich.

The plasterers are back tomorrow morning and I get to  go  to work for some peace and quiet.  I might  take my slippers to work and hide them  under my desk.  Now there’s an idea.


CATEGORIES : Diary/ AUTHOR : Lawyer Mum

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