Where's the Lights?

Todd is our contractor remolding the kitchen and bathroom.  He and Doug are in cahoots.  Two days after obliterating our kitchen Doug leaves for seven weeks. 

Where am I supposed to cook?  The stove is in the laundry room with no hook ups.  Where am I supposed to do dishes?  The only sink is the tiny one in the bathroom.  Where do I store the dishes I can't cook on?  The only saving grace is I have a refrigerator.  It is in the garage. 

Think, I must think.  There is the front bedroom down stairs with a bed and lots of boxes.  I can put dishes on the bed.  I can throw a board over the boxes and put the microwave there.  At least I can make tea.  I've been told no one likes me if I don't get my tea.  We own a toaster oven, I can make chicken in that.  But, there is no room left on the board and it might be a fire hazard to cook on the bed.  Ah!  I can cook in the bathroom.  That sounds very appetizing!

Todd has contracted some nice men to work on the house.  The plumber/electrician for example.  He had to disconnect the light in the dining room where I ate.  He considerately asked me if he should reconnect it before he left for the day.  "Nah, I can handle that.  It doesn't get dark until 9:30."  I could be reasonable. 

"O.K.  See you tomorrow," the pleasant man said.

Nine thirty came and it got dark.  I turned on the living room light.  Nothing.  I turned on the overhead lights in the down stairs bedrooms.  Nothing.  I turned on all the upstairs lights.  Nothing.  Nothing. Nothing!  At least the bathroom lights worked, so I could see my teeth.  I stumbled my way to bed out of boredom. 

The next day I wore a hole in the carpet waiting for the plumber/electrician.  By 3:00 I was not pleasant even though I did get my tea.  (Had to move the microwave in the bathroom.)  Todd nor the plumber/electrician had shown up.  Ripping through the phone book I could not find the plumbers name any where.  I yanked the phone off the stand and punched in Todd's number.  Voice mail.  Wouldn't you figure. 

"Hey Todd.  This is Angie.  I have no lights, television, or computer.  That plumber dude didn't come today as promised.  I am not happy!  Good bye"

By five thirty I was running circles around our property.  What else was there to do?  A truck pulled into the driveway.  Todd and his helper jumped out of it with extension cords wrapped around their bodies.  I am saved!

Todd said the plumber was knee deep in someone's well and couldn't come until tomorrow.  Well the plumber was knee deep on my well list as well.  So they extension corded my house so I could live like a somewhat normal person.

The plumber/electrician came bright and early the next morning.  He restored all the lights, but the dining room.  I can live with this one more night, I thought.  Five weeks later, the lights in the dining room came on.  But the kitchen was up and working and looked fantastic!  The only thing missing in the kitchen was the refrigerator.  It was still living in the garage.   I am told the new one will be here "any day now".

Getting Modern

I followed Doug in the door of our house after a relaxing vacation in San Diego.  He was standing in my kitchen (I think it was my kitchen)  smiling and twirling in circles.  "This is so cool," he was chanting. 

Before I go any further, let me give you some background.

Doug, myself, and the giant scardy cat moved into a circa 1900 house that had an addition in 1924.  My grandparents moved into this house in 1918.  My father and his twin brother were born in the bedroom we now sleep in.  I came home from the hospital at five days old and lived in this house for nine years.  At my ninth birthday my parents ripped me out of here and moved me to the not so wonderful south Texas shore.  Forty-two years later I have reclaimed the family farm house.

Someone along the forty-two years remolded the house.  What where they thinking?

The kitchen has a dropped seventies ceiling.  One that is not clean.  Dark brown faux brick paneling adorn the walls.  Harsh florescent lighting glare down on the worn butt-ugly vinyl tile. 

On the smarter side, some one took a small bedroom on the main floor and cut it in half.  The laundry is no longer in the musty, cob-web dangling,  haunted (probably) basement.  It is on the main floor, but open for all to see.  My laundry room is the epitome of mess!  The bathroom has been enlarged.  In the old days you couldn't have 1.75 people in there at a time and the toilet was hidden behind the door.  Now it is larger, but there is no bathtub and no door!  Really?  Those are necessities!

Doug continued the twirling and chanting thing while I scooped my bottom lip off the floor and held my nose.  Walls were gone.  The ceiling was gone.  I could see my mother's blue and yellow linoleum  flooring under my feet.  (What, did they think I would want to keep that!)  There were no cabinets or counters.  Not a sink or stove existed.  Only a lone refrigerator remained to say it was once a functioning kitchen.  And what was that smell?

I finally realized I was looking at history.  I could see where windows and doors had been but were now boarded up.  Closing my eyes I imagined the homey feel the 1900's family had.  Then I could see my father and his family cozy in this room.  I could hear the generations old voices.  "Boys!  Get down in that basement and pump that cistern.  I need water up here.  Now!"

 I was still confused about the smell. Doug put his arm around me and said "Sweetheart, that is the smell of modernization."

Great.  Modern day stinks!