The other night I had a dream in which both my sister-in-law and I shaved our heads bald. I texted her and told her about it and gave my own, uneducated psychological diagnosis for the dream which was “we’re losing our shit.” The funny thing was, even though she had shaved her head she still looked gorgeous with long, flowing locks. I, on the other hand, looked like Gollum. I’m not trying to make this into a pissing match but, I think it means I’m legit going crazy.
So, to catch you all up: We moved-in with my mom last August (hi, mom!). We decided the best course of action would be to renovate the Cottage and move-in while the Main House was being renovated. I think the logic there was the Cottage is significantly smaller and therefore should take less time to fix-up. So, our first, self-imposed deadline to be moved into the Cottage was before Christmas. Then it was after Christmas. Then, I think it was Easter. Then it was the end of July…
Me, whenever someone asks how the renovations are going and when we’re moving into the Cottage.
In retrospect, when we purchased the property, the Cottage was in a worse state than that of the Main House. A portion of the roof was gone and the house had been open to the elements for years. Obviously, the entire roof needed to be replaced plus we had to replace an entire wall and flooring on both the first and second floors. Animals had made a home in it and it had signs of people staying in it as well. In other words, it was in really bad shape and while we Marcus has certainly come a long way in the repairs it still remains uninhabitable.
Anyway, as time has gone on and the renovations of both the Cottage and the Main House have begun to pace each other, it occurred to me that we might as well wait and simply move into the Main House when it is ready. The conversation was had about a month or so ago when I mentioned that it might be better for the family if we didn’t have to move, what would essentially be, three times in one year. Yesterday, after working in the ungodly heat which I suppose is what brought about the following epiphany, Marcus mentioned he thought it might be better for the family if we didn’t have to move, what would essentially be, three times in one year. Huh. That sounded familiar.
I have yet to really finesse the fine art of letting the man think he makes all of the wonderful decisions in the family so instead of saying “That’s a great idea!” I said something more like “Oh, funny, because I said the same exact thing not that long ago” followed by an accusatory eyebrow raise (my humility is a work in progress). Despite it totally being my idea to begin with but Marcus getting the credit for it (dang it, there I go again) we are now on the same page and will be staying with my mom until the Main House is completed.
When asked if she would be alright with us continuing to live with her all my mom had to say was she was definitely going to be buying her rather skittish dog a set of noise canceling headphones.
Bringing Back Sligo 