What a bumpy ride the past few days have been. So much has been done, but more and more I see the beauty in a ‘strong and willing lad’, not for the sake of innuendo but because I am getting tired! Next thing is to get the water and gas supply pipes cut back where the kitchen came out: I’m certainly NOT going to do that myself.
Once the bathroom was taken out to make the large laundry room I had set my heart on we had to cope with the results of seventeen (I swear) years of leaks which left the floor with holes you could see through, straight to the water below. Since the joists were sound, and the boards themselves still strong if a bit lacey, we just put down a subfloor which I screwed down, chamfered and pieced with my own dainty hands, then tiled the next day.
At which point I bumped into my own perversity. I had loved doing it, snapping the line and taking endless pains over the foundation row, then satisfying swift progress row on row, and finally at about 6.30, ta-da! the finished job, into which I had poured all my enthusiasm and most of my fingernails. You know what ladies? It’s just a floor. Huh.
By this time the sun was setting, and, intoxicated with hard work and a glass of wine, I looked, really looked at the ripples on the water, and the way the reflections ran up the reeds. It was like looking into the nature of energy itself, hypnotically beautiful – and everything else was incidental. Can’t predict these moments, but knocking yourself out helps.