We’re having a bad day.

The stress of everything is wearing us down… we’re making mistakes and starting to crack around the edges. We’re hoping that things will calm down after the end of this week, but it’s likely that we have another 2-3 weeks of this.

We’re working hard to keep up the house momentum. It’s so close to drywall… just a few more big pushes and we’re there. We got a tub (it’s sitting in the middle of the front room) which comes along with a wonderful story. The day we got the tub (Friday) was a wonderful, bright, sunny, and life-affirming day… and it must’ve used up all our karma, ’cause we’re in a rough spot now.

I took the kids out of town all weekend (through Monday night) so that Paul was free to turn off the household water supply and work on the plumbing. He estimates that he spent at least 20 hours under the house over those days… in a space too high to lay on your back to work and too low to be on your knees. Working with a blowtorch. And sewer lines. And electricity. Still, he figures that he made off better. Watching the kids at my parents’ house is a challenge and then coming home to a house with no food or provisions is awful.

The weekend is when I work my third (or is it fourth? or maybe fifth?) job: that of housewife. It’s a role I pretty much hate; it’s under-appreciated, I have to work nights and weekends almost exclusively, and it’s much more of a challenge in a house with no washer and dryer (have I mentioned we have had no laundry for almost 2 months?) On the weekends, I try to stock up the fridge for lunches and make ahead meals for the week to minimize how much housewife stuff interferes with my professional work. I care about doing the best for my family, but I’m not a robot… I have to think and plan meals ahead, on the weekends, when I can think about it. Experience has shown us that when this does not happen, we eat crap all week. Which is exactly what is playing out for us now. And probably why we are all cranky. The tofu dish I tried to make last week bombed majorly and I can’t get back into a cooking grove. Moreover, I can’t think enough to decide what to make, what to buy to make, or how to be creative with what we have (that last category can be described as “milk, 1/2 celery stalk, and a few cans of beans”). Paul usually helps me balance these home-maintenance tasks, but is pretty much either working on the house or working his jobs. (If you think he sleeps or eats between these working hours, he doesn’t.)

I’m not exactly sure where we are going to break here, but we will break.