Squawk Radio
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Christina Dodd moves into her new house with one husband, two dogs, and ten of her most intimate construction-based friends
From earlier today:
The boxes are packed. The movers are here. Up at the World’s Tallest Tar Paper Shack, the carpet layer is at this moment laying the carpet in the great room and in the master bedroom so we can place the furniture. And my father-in-law and sister-in-law are arriving a day early(before you guys squawk that they're rude, the visit was arranged months ago when we thought we'd be in the house by June 1 hahahahahahhaha). Yes, instead of coming on Friday, as my husband told me, which would give us twenty-four hours to frantically unpack and prepare, they’re coming tomorrow. In fact, they were always coming tomorrow, but Scott is … hm, how to say this kindly? Scott is scheduling impaired.
Later at the new house as I watch the movers wrestle my piano off the truck and cringe:
—The new house has three and a half stories and five sets of stairs (up one from garage to walk-out basement, up one to great room and deck, up one to main level, up two to top level.) I wonder if the movers are going to drop that piano. I wonder how long it’ll take them to empty the truck. I wonder if I’ll get any sleep tonight.
—It hasn't topped 80 degrees all summer. I'm freezing my sissy Texas fanny off. I look longingly at Houston where it's 99, and that's a sad thing. As I packed, I caressed my shorts and thought — but I have great legs! No one gets to see them! My tanning lotion is spoiling! My toes have mildew!
—I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. You know, for a “well-woman check-up.” I hope I can find my calendar because I know the date but not the time.
— I have a port-o-pottie and a dumpster in my back yard.
—The glass guys came to install the glass doors in our shower. The doors were cut wrong. So I’ll have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn and trek upstairs to the bathroom with a shower curtain to avoid the ten construction guys who will appear everyday at seven am to finish the plumbing, the electrical, the trim, the lighting … But we have no window coverings anywhere and I’d have to do that anyway.
—The guy who's doing our stairs and railings is an artist. They're hickory, vertical grain fir, and gorgeous, and he's been working on them for three months with no end in sight.
— The driveway concrete's not poured so we can't get our cars into the garage, which we couldn't do anyway because it's full of boxes from storage and they're behind the saw/sander set-up for the stair guy.
—And finally, the good news. The carpet layer is also an artist, and I had him design my carpet for my office. This isn’t a great photo, but it will give you the idea of what he did — cutting swirls of two carpet colors (black and rust) into the main carpet (chocolate) and beveling the edges. It’s gorgeous!
Updates tomorrow! Whether you want them or not!
The boxes are packed. The movers are here. Up at the World’s Tallest Tar Paper Shack, the carpet layer is at this moment laying the carpet in the great room and in the master bedroom so we can place the furniture. And my father-in-law and sister-in-law are arriving a day early(before you guys squawk that they're rude, the visit was arranged months ago when we thought we'd be in the house by June 1 hahahahahahhaha). Yes, instead of coming on Friday, as my husband told me, which would give us twenty-four hours to frantically unpack and prepare, they’re coming tomorrow. In fact, they were always coming tomorrow, but Scott is … hm, how to say this kindly? Scott is scheduling impaired.
Later at the new house as I watch the movers wrestle my piano off the truck and cringe:
—The new house has three and a half stories and five sets of stairs (up one from garage to walk-out basement, up one to great room and deck, up one to main level, up two to top level.) I wonder if the movers are going to drop that piano. I wonder how long it’ll take them to empty the truck. I wonder if I’ll get any sleep tonight.
—It hasn't topped 80 degrees all summer. I'm freezing my sissy Texas fanny off. I look longingly at Houston where it's 99, and that's a sad thing. As I packed, I caressed my shorts and thought — but I have great legs! No one gets to see them! My tanning lotion is spoiling! My toes have mildew!
—I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. You know, for a “well-woman check-up.” I hope I can find my calendar because I know the date but not the time.
— I have a port-o-pottie and a dumpster in my back yard.
—The glass guys came to install the glass doors in our shower. The doors were cut wrong. So I’ll have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn and trek upstairs to the bathroom with a shower curtain to avoid the ten construction guys who will appear everyday at seven am to finish the plumbing, the electrical, the trim, the lighting … But we have no window coverings anywhere and I’d have to do that anyway.
—The guy who's doing our stairs and railings is an artist. They're hickory, vertical grain fir, and gorgeous, and he's been working on them for three months with no end in sight.
— The driveway concrete's not poured so we can't get our cars into the garage, which we couldn't do anyway because it's full of boxes from storage and they're behind the saw/sander set-up for the stair guy.
—And finally, the good news. The carpet layer is also an artist, and I had him design my carpet for my office. This isn’t a great photo, but it will give you the idea of what he did — cutting swirls of two carpet colors (black and rust) into the main carpet (chocolate) and beveling the edges. It’s gorgeous!
Updates tomorrow! Whether you want them or not!
Christina Dodd, 9:06 PM
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