I am in a strange place.
Not emotionally, but materially, physically, environmentally.
There’s an interesting phenomenon that co-occurs with unexpected change in one’s environment, something we rarely notice until unforeseen disruptions of the normal routine unravel the weave of the familiar and make space for the unusual to come through.
Deconstruction of the ordinary makes extra space for the absurd.
It's like ridiculousness has come to reign in my life of late…
or perhaps I’ve come to reign in the realm of Ridiculousness.
Last week, after the water leak in our house provoked a full scale demolition of half our living space, we were thrilled that this straw finally broke the camel's back in regard to a slew of repairs we’ve been trying to get accomplished since April.
Our home was remodeled before our purchase - well, mostly - see, once we made the down payment and moved into escrow, the selling agent and investor doing the remodel put a cute little pin in the work they were doing (unbeknownst to us) and buttoned things up in the most half-ass way they could muster, so that the house was entirely livable but also not entirely complete in terms of a finished build. Upon closing, we agreed that a moderate list of final fixes would be done in the coming days.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as we learned a new dance of social dynamics that is a norm in Portugal’s tradesman economy.
Basically, if it’s on fire, it will get fixed. If it’s not, it will get done tomorrow. Amanhã, sempre amanhã.
So when I finally had it up to here with the run-around and the selling agent (who is also responsible for carrying out the warranty here on the remodel - a standard protection for home buyers that says the sellers have 2 years of obligation for anything done improperly in the renovation of a listing - I printed a list and presented it with my most pissed-off-taking-no-nonsense-fed-up-mama-voice told the agent:
“These are the tasks you agreed to complete in April. It is now January. The contractor who is here to fix the water leak will complete these tasks NOW, along with the repairs. We have been ghosted, ignored, misled, and stood up countless times in the past 9 months. This ends right now. The team is here, they'll start today, sign this paper and we’ll be on our way. I'll no longer be angry, you'll no longer be hiding from my calls, and we can all move on with our lives. Here's a pen.”
The Queen had spoken. Tail between his legs, he signed, and the work commenced.
Suddenly the water repair and leak investigation was also replacing all the broken tiles in the patio, painting the roof of the barbecue area, fixing the incomplete gate control box, re-insulating one of the walls, repairing bubbling paint from humidity, installing light fixtures, drilling holes in the outer perimeter wall, replacing an overheating socket - and all of this happening simultaneously with a team of 5 guys on site in addition to visiting electricians, tile workers, and plumbing specialists.
Which is great.
And also. Ridiculous.
They removed the toilet to investigate the potential leak (yay!) but left the toilet in the yard and placed a paper cover over the open drain to the sewer (ew) and because they’d removed flooring and baseboards, they also removed all the interior doors, which means that whatever is wafting from the sewer is mixing with the smells of dinner on the stove.
Gross.
The team repaired an unsealed area beneath the front door to stop rain from coming in (yay!) but also on their way out accidentally broke the lock of the front door so that it is bolted shut and will not open... on Friday. So we’ve been using the downstairs door to get in and out of the house, which is a heavy old wooden door with a simple latch that needs to be propped open to ensure it doesn’t close and latch behind us - but it’s too much for the boys to go up and down the stairs, so they’ve just been entering and exiting the house through the kitchen window.
Absurd.
It’s Sunday. The door is still shut, but don’t worry, because the locksmith is coming amanhã (or so we hope).
The dining table is in the sun nook and the pantry is in our bedroom and the doors are on the floor and the couch is two feet from the fireplace and it’s all entirely ridiculous and messy and disorienting.
But we also realized last night that the empty kitchen and bare tile floor make the perfect open space to set up the disco ball, fog and strobe lights and cut loose.
So on Saturday night, we climbed in the kitchen window, ignored the smell of poop wafting from the demolished bathroom, turned up the music and just danced until our boys literally got tired of hearing me sing early 90’s pop at full volume, so they went to bed... BY THEMSELVES.
Tanner read River stories as I performed my ASL rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” for Brent.
Then Tanner - our 8 year old - came out to say that River was asleep, he'd tucked him in, and he was putting himself to bed, too.
Unheard of.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that amidst the continually unfolding minor setbacks and major frustrations, amongst the upheaval of the ordinary routine, along with the topsy-turvy twists and turns the last week has taken…
It’s also had some pretty magical moments and sweet memories that wouldn’t have been made without the mayhem.
It makes me think on how often unexpected chaos creates portals of possibiity for experiences we'd not otherwise have - ones that might transport us into a new way of seeing things, doing things, or appreciating the things we already have.
So tonight, I’m sitting on my throne and surveying my fiefdom - it’s a mess, everything is in disarray, and it smells a little bit like crap - but on the whole, life is still pretty beautiful.
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