Yesterday was a day of rest for us.

After three consecutive fifteen hour days of moving and renovation, Kris and I chose a calmer pace.

We unpacked books — lots of books. We re-assembled furniture. We worked in the yard, attempting to rescue it after three consecutive 90-degree days. We taught ourselves to use the irrigation well (not difficult). We watered and mowed and pruned.

The old mower was injured during the move. The rust spots on the deck are no longer rust spots; they're holes. A lawn mower with holes in its deck is not only a lawn mower, it's also a grass geyser. Not fun. Suddenly a lawnmower is near the top of our list of neccessities.

Our list of projects keeps growing. And changing.

Before we moved in, we had a list of priorities — and a budget and a schedule — that we thought was realistic. For example, we thought we'd be done with the floors this coming weekend, and that the walls would have already been painted, and that then we could just move all our stuff into the bottom floor.

It's not going to happen.

The floors will be finished by this weekend, it's true (though our friends question the wisdom of doing the floors before the other projects), but the walls have ballooned into a major job. We peeled the wallpaper in the dining room and the den only to discover the wallboard beneath was some sort of old, freakish quarter-inch sheetrock. The walls in the parlor aren't even that; they're some sort of fiberboard. We've had to rip out these walls (putting to waste all the time we spent on the wallpaper; it's enough to make us weep!) and now have to get a contractor in to replace them.

There's a very strong possibility that a drywall contractor is going to make us take off more of the walls, too. The old wallboards actually extend to the ceiling: they tuck beneath some molding and then beneath the popcorn stuff that comes down from the ceiling to the top eighteen inches of wall space. That could be another headache. And all this work is going to take place on newly refinished floors. (Fortunately, Craig suggested a method for protecting the floors while working on the walls.)

Meanwhile, I am deeply concerned about the structural stability of the library. The floor slopes drastically, and it seems to have a sag in the middle. It bounces. If I jump, the whole room shakes, and the bookshelves teeter. So I don't jump in the library. I need to have somebody look at this.

As I mentioned the other day, the old house smell is a bit of a bother, too. I like old house smell, but the odor in our house can get a bit strong, even for me. It seems to wax and wane, actually. Yesterday, the odor wasn't so bad. This morning, it was very strong. Michael recommended some charcoal-based odor absorbers from Bed, Bath, and Beyond that he says work like a charm. I'll have to check them out.

There are many other little things that need done. For example, Jeremy and I shoved all of the electrical outlets — which are mounted in the floor, not the wall — down into the cellar. When the floor refinishing is done, I need to reinstall these, swapping the outdated stuff for new wiring. This seemed a little daunting at first, but from what I can tell, it'll be easy. I'm looking forward to it, actually.

I've lots more to tell, of course, but it's all about the house. Our whole life has been the house for the last several days. I'm actually glad to be at work today. It seems like a break.

One final story from the move:

Kris and I had agreed that we would not bring the cats over until this weekend, after the floors were finished. That resolution stood firm until all the hubbub from the move had died. Then I announced, "I'm going to get the cats." And that was that.

Only after I got to the house in Canby did I realize we had two cat carriers and three cats.

No problem. The house is full of boxes and tape. I taped up a box and stuck Simon inside, and then went to package Toto and Nemo. While I was doing this, Simon went berserk, jumping and clawing and flailing about inside his box. He tore his way out.

I really did not want to make another trip back to Canby, so I searched the house for anything that might resemble a cat carrier.

In Kris' closet, I found a large, flat plastic container filled with unmentionables. I dumped these on the floor of our empty bedroom, and held the container up to Simon's body. It would be a tight fit, but it would work if I shut off my animal empathy switch.

I shut off my animal empathy switch.

I scrunched Simon flat into the container. He fit, but he could not stand. I hauled the three crying babies out to the van and then was on my way.

Someplace around the fairgrounds, my animal empathy switch kicked on again. "I'm so sorry, Simon," I hollered back to him. I pulled the van to the side of the road, climbed to the cargo area, and freed him from his flat prison.

He had, of course, urinated in the container, and was covered with the stuff. "I'm so sorry, Simon," I said, petting him as he jumped free. I began to drive again. With his uriny (new adjective!) paws, Simon came and stood on my lap.

"Revenge is sweet, Dad," he said.

The curious thing is that of the three cats, Simon has made the easiest adjustment to the new house. He loved it instantly.

All three are shut upstairs. Toto and Nemo spent all of Sunday under the bed, hiding. (They came out at 2 a.m. and growled and hissed and knocked things over, just like normal.) Simon, however, explored every upstairs room, ate copiously, sat in the windows gazing down at the birds ("Awesome, Dad!"), and — his favorite — ran up and down the stairs. Remember that picture of Simon on the ladder? He loves the stairs, too. It's in his blood.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Fields of Thought   Odds and ends from my brain to yours. (Including a list of things I pick up while taking my walks.)

2003 — Order of the Phoenix   Any book that gets people this excited about reading has some merit.

2001 — The Last Straw!   Blogger somehow ate all of my archived entries.