After another day of demolition and construction that I was mercifully not privy to (I am up and out of the house before they arrive), we now have more of a tangible semblance of a new wall than we did on Wednesday. It still seems fairly surreal, but we are getting closer to a more clearly defined new space, and can start thinking about how everything’s going to fit.
That said, having largely removed and re-located everything from that side of the apartment, our home now looks like something that would make Marie Kondo angrily incontinent. They are stacks and mounds and piles of stuff just EVERYWHERE. There’s a stack of books messily assembled in this corner. There’s a pile of important papers hastily stowed in that corner. The rugs are all half-rolled up, askew and trampled upon. There’s a formless aggregation of kids’ clothes strewn in the front room. There’s a herd of half-empty boxes arranged like Stonehenge in the master bedroom. The closets have become makeshift storage facilities, with contents tenuously sardined into too-small compartments. The whole apartment feels like an overstuffed burrito of needless crap. I find myself swearily vowing to completely blitz the place of any non-joy-sparking deadwood once we’ve finished with the renovation.
Before that can happen, we still have to paint, disassemble the kids’ trusty bunkbed and divine the new configuration of their sleeping arrangements.
Again, watch this re-formulating space.
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