The Perfect Excuse For Being A Slug

Yes, I have it. And yes, it is actually true. I have used the phrase "When I get the floors installed...." as the ideal excuse for not unpacking boxes and putting everything away. I have lived like a carpet-bagger in Wal Mart's warehouse since I moved back to Baytown in 2012.

When I moved home back in 2012, I discovered termite damage in the master bedroom. Well, insurance doesn't cover that. So I spent the next 18 months slowly repairing the damage. The rest of the house had to wait, which meant the dreadful carpet had to go. There was also damaged linoleum in the kitchen. The floors were stripped, and I've lived with concrete floors ever since. My justification was - why unpack all those books and keepsakes, put them on shelves just to have to pack them back up to move cabinets for flooring to be installed? Right?

Well, I am about to have to bite the bullet. Floors are not far away. I have to admit, I spent my whole life having every little detail in place. Now it's the house's turn. My flooring is picked out. I have one financial piece that is now falling into place. The next step is to move all that furniture to the 3 bedrooms. My brother is going to get that "help me" phone call. Once the flooring is delivered it has to sit in the house getting acclimated to my standard temps and moisture. The piano will go on it's dolly.......last time it lived on the dolly for weeks was during the first remodel in 2005. That was the year Hurricane Rita was scheduled to hit us, but it veered east to Beaumont and Port Arthur. All the furniture, except my sterling silver trumpet, my jewelry case and the piano was in climate controlled storage. I asked my carpenter to cover the piano with plenty of plastic in case roof damage caused leaks. We stood the jewelry case on a heavy table, and Mr. Handsome (the trumpet's nick name) went high on a shelf wrapped in plastic. Frank told me he would go one better on the piano. He had moving blankets and was going to wrap it snug, then wrap in plastic and tie it all down with a rope.

Rita did hit. I had tree, fence, limb and electrical lines damage, but no water. I decided to go by the house just to check on the roof. I walked in the front door, and my heart dropped. My piano was gone. The dolly was there. I called Frank with a sick stomach. "Frank, was my piano here when you left?" "Yes, ma'm." "Well, it's gone now." "No, it isn't." His next words were unbelievable. "Look Up." I did. The piano was suspended from some upper support beams by a rope system and anchored to a number of uprights so it wouldn't swing around and get damaged. "How are we going to get this down?" Frank said, "I'll be right over with my knife!" and hung up. NNNOOOOOOO I wasn't leaving the house. I was in a dead panic over my piano being dropped and crashing to the concrete. I had visions of classic black and white movies of grand pianos falling 32 stories in New York City. I was stammering and blubbering when they arrived. He said, "We got this." and climbed a ladder. They each had a position on each side of the floor. He cut two knots, came ground level with loose ropes on each side, and they lowered it with a rope system he had created looped around several beams. The process took a few minutes and there was one scare. Then he shoved the dolly under and lowered it gently onto it.

Now I have to get all the furniture and boxes in other rooms. There is so much work to do, but this is the last leg of getting everything in place so I can settle down and look like I actually live there. Watch - by the time I get everything done I will decide to move. If I do move, it will have to be a walk in ready house. This is my 4th remodel to work around: the Nederland house; this house in 2005, mom's house in 2010 and this house again in 2018. I am a glutton for punishment.

Sigh. I have enjoyed being a slug.