Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Futility and schedule changes
I'd no sooner closed the fifth and final large box of pots, pans, casserole dishes, and small appliances when the phone rang. (Insert ominous music here.) It was our lead carpenter.
I'm sure you know where this is going. Electricians are held up on a previous job, yadda yadda yadda. How would I feel about the start date being next Monday instead of tomorrow? Otherwise he could come in and start demolition, but leave the job site untouched for probably the bulk of next week, when the electricians will be available to start the wiring.
Surrounded by boxes jammed-packed of everything that makes my kitchen functional, I could feel my heart sinking. I didn't know what to say or how to react, so I told the carpenter I'd call him back and made frantic calls to my husband's many numbers, hoping he'd make the decision for me. In the meantime, I indulged in a little bit of stress-induced weeping. Honestly, I understand that things come up, but I'd just finished packing up everything I need to cook with, down to the spoons and spatulas. If the call had come, no joke, two hours earlier, the situtation wouldn't have been nearly as dire. (What, you say, unpack the boxes? Begone from my blog, evil troll!)
When my husband called back, I was surprised at his reaction: "Next week? Sweet!" He said it would give us more time to pack up everything else, and get the basement in order to accommodate both the boxes and our limited food-preparation areas and supplies.
He had a point. So I called the carpenter and gave him the okay to start next week (but not without making the point that I'd just finished packing everything). In the meantime, I guess we'll be eating a lot of sandwiches.
I'm sure you know where this is going. Electricians are held up on a previous job, yadda yadda yadda. How would I feel about the start date being next Monday instead of tomorrow? Otherwise he could come in and start demolition, but leave the job site untouched for probably the bulk of next week, when the electricians will be available to start the wiring.
Surrounded by boxes jammed-packed of everything that makes my kitchen functional, I could feel my heart sinking. I didn't know what to say or how to react, so I told the carpenter I'd call him back and made frantic calls to my husband's many numbers, hoping he'd make the decision for me. In the meantime, I indulged in a little bit of stress-induced weeping. Honestly, I understand that things come up, but I'd just finished packing up everything I need to cook with, down to the spoons and spatulas. If the call had come, no joke, two hours earlier, the situtation wouldn't have been nearly as dire. (What, you say, unpack the boxes? Begone from my blog, evil troll!)
When my husband called back, I was surprised at his reaction: "Next week? Sweet!" He said it would give us more time to pack up everything else, and get the basement in order to accommodate both the boxes and our limited food-preparation areas and supplies.
He had a point. So I called the carpenter and gave him the okay to start next week (but not without making the point that I'd just finished packing everything). In the meantime, I guess we'll be eating a lot of sandwiches.
