This stoopid, unplanned bathroom remodel has been cursed from the beginning. I’m starting to wonder if God just meant for us to have one 5×7 bathroom and I should just close the door and move on. The closer I get to finishing the damn thing, the more the rest of life keeps popping up. I’m pretty sure I cannot cancel Ian blowing out a tire on a major highway (Mike drove out to help him home at 12:30 am) or Dan needing some support in his lonely summer days in Tallahassee or Scout whose legs seem to be giving out in a big, scary way. Maybe if I just close the door to the bathroom all of those pesky real-world things will right themselves. I know, it’s magical thinking and that the bathroom has nothing to do with the rest of it, but … (there’s always a but) it sure would be nice if it were that easy. RIGHT?
Update: Ian and Mike are home and safe and I feel like Mrs. Weasley. I apologized to Ian for yelling at him for being a slob and not doing his dishes and, you know, all the stuff you yell at your kids for doing/not doing. In the words of Mrs. Weasley, “Suppose those had been the last words I ever said to you?!!” Waaahh.