As is my wont, I’ve been thinking but not writing. Rest assured, Loyal Reader, you are very frequently on my mind, but this easily distracted mind surely wanders.

I need a new prompt. And I have one. The Big Guy calls it my new hobby. I guess there is truth to that. It’s definitely my new project. Gutting the house.

I know. Right??

So, I’m thinking about chronicling it here. Not exactly sure how it will shape up, but I got some ideas. And I’m going back to a daily deadline. Yikes! I just typed that out loud.

It might be a story. It might be a metaphor. Or it might be an uninteresting diary of stuff. But it will be a discipline for me to write, and to connect with you, my Loyal Reader. And you know that means I’m connecting with myself.

So let me catch you up to where we are. We hired somebody to figure shit out (I have the design acumen of Fred Flinstone), and to draw the pictures that somebody professional can use to make a mess and then–fingers crossed tightly–make a place to live that doesn’t have plaster crashing down in chunks, cloth covered wiring that turns to dust when exposed to air, floors that deliver sprinters into stockinged feet and a paucity of kitchen cabinets that were built (very sturdily I might acknowledge) in the 1940s. Oh, and a second bathroom.

Don’t judge me. I hear your groans. We all survived a single bathroom which helped define our family idea of privacy. 

Current status: first round of pictures, done. Seeing elevations on Tuesday. And The Spouse and I are still on speaking terms. So far. So good.

I’ll tell you more tomorrow!