Torture

I like to joke that the relationship between me and the Phenom ain't strong enough to withstand building a house together. Seriously, what pulls at the tiny little flaws in a relationship like having to pick out every bit of a house? It's soooooo much easier to get them already built.

This week, we are going to discover, the hard way, if our relationship is strong enough to withstand renovations. We've put off the renovations for much to long. Partly out of pure procrastination and partly out of a nervous little tick of mine. I can't stand to have people touch my house. I have to restrain my self from making screaming phone calls to chinese and pizza places to stick their menus on my front door. I don't answer my doorbell if I don't recognize the person on the stoop. I'm not sure I can stomach groups of men breaking stuff --- even if they are gonna put it back better than before.

Ever since we hooked up with the contractor, we have had a stream of men in to look at the projects - measure -- jot notes and ask questions. The other day, a workman pulled some of the moulding off the wall in the bathroom - and I literally had to get out of the house before I started screaming. (And it is much harder to convince a contractor to do his job if he's subjected to monkey howls.)

Part of the reason we scheduled the work to be done in the summer was so that I could be at the office and the Phenom could handle it for us. However, two days this week, the Phenom has wardrobe and meetings concerning next season's production -- which means I'll have to be in the house while the destruction is happening. I wonder if I can get valium from Canada by Tuesday? Maybe I'll just swing by the booze store on my way home from the office tomorrow. A big bottle of rum should be equal to Canadian valium, right?