'Tis The Song The Sigh Of The Weary, Hard Times Hard Times Come Again No More

I didn't think we were going to make it - and it did in fact come right down to the wire. As of 10:00 p.m. last night the kitchen still wasn't completely finished and it was another sleepless night filled with thoughts of dread and dire vengeance.

At this point I'm so sleep deprived I've almost completely lost all sense of time: I drove a few miles north yesterday afternoon to attend a party at a friend's house that was actually scheduled for this evening. Tonight, I went back, was there for two hours and it felt like I'd been there all day. It's now 7:30 p.m. and I'm fully intending to crawl into bed as soon as I finish typing this.

This is the lesson I've learned about contractors: if you give them a deadline they will push you right up to it, within hours even. I think they get some perverse sort of pleasure out of watching their clients squirm and fidget and palpably vibrate just for the thrill of enpowerment it must give them; why else put another human being through that kind of torture?

But, whatever. It's done. There are still a handful of tiny details to complete, little bits-and-pieces that only someone who's been staring at that same spot on the wall for three straight months would probably even notice. But, from a purely functional perspective, those can be dealt with.

It's done, over, finito and we start moving at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.
,
Only of course, it's not done, and probably won't be for weeks, for however long it takes us to settle in and work the kinks out of the new space, the ones I hadn't even thought of.

Enough from me. The TheraFlu is almost gone. Time for bed.