I honestly couldn't tell you, without looking it up, how long this has been going on now. Seven weeks? Eight? It seems as though we have always lived in little cramped spaces among the piles of boxes and bags and rubbish in the bedroom and living room. I know, intellectually, that there was a time when I got up in the middle of the night to go to the loo and I didn't fall over a bag full of shoes or a box of books that seemed eminently avoidable when we went to bed. I feel as if I have always been tapping these posts out on a laptop sitting on the bed. In other words, this madness has become normal.
And now it's nearly over.
I've been cautioned about the use of the phrase `almost finished,' and quite rightly so because we are a distance from being finished. The bathroom still needs tiling - a job I don't feel confident of doing successfully myself - the toilet upstairs needs installing, the air-con upstairs needs installing (I'm not going to get into air-con issues, I've been told we're having one and I have to put up with it so you'll have to too) and some niggling bits and pieces need doing, including decorating and replacing the carpets in the flat that have been destroyed by a megatonne of plaster, sand, sawdust, bits and pieces of wiring and plaster, all trodden in by the builders. The Little Room With All The Boxes needs to be stripped back to basics and totally redecorated before I can even countenance putting up shelving and getting stuff onto the walls and unbagging the PC.
But the major stuff is done. If we tidied up the sawdust and bits of tools and stuff upstairs, we would have a usable bedroom. The sink works, the power's connected, and god only knows it's tidier up there right now than it is down here. We are, as they say, on the last lap. The final straight. The last quarter. And other sports-related metaphors. Or is it similes? I can never remember.
I admit, grudgingly, that it all looks pretty good. It's always a pleasure to see good work done by professionals, and to my poorly-tutored eye this is good work. I still can't quite convince myself it was all worth it, though.
That having been said, there have been a number of reasons this week to do the Happy Dance. My friend Lou Anders has been nominated for a Hugo Award (and all right-thinking Villagers who have Hugo voting rights should vote for him) John Picacio, who is a mighty, mighty artist, has been nominated for two Hugo Awards (and all right-thinking...well, you know) I signed an option from a chap in the States to make a film of my short story `The Trauma Jockey,' we finally got broadband, and it works without any problems (punches air and shouts `yay!' in totally undeserved demonstration of technological victory) and Doll By Doll's albums were finally, finally, after more than a quarter of a century, issued on CD.
Bogna is on Poland on family business right now, so it's a bit lonely here, even with the cats. I am absolutely exhausted.
I'll post some pics in the next couple of days, for those of you who can be bothered to look.
Davey Six Toes