I moved our dishes and most of our food downstairs because the beautiful clean shelves were taunting me and it was one thing I could do to get us closer to living downstairs. THE one thing I could do, since the bedrooms are still not ready to inhabit. Chris has been working every day on them and they are looking marvelous - marvelous yet uninhabitable. He's renting a sander tomorrow to do the floors, which will then need urethane, which will need to cure, and THEN we can move in. Maybe. There will probably be something else.
I moved the food downstairs because we are foodies and I figured if the food was down there, we would follow it. I have forced my own hand and am now making and serving most of our meals downstairs, which is good and bad. Good because that's what we're trying to do in the long run. Bad because there are paint cans and electric drills and vacuum attachments and seven kinds of paint rollers/brushes on the kitchen counters, leaving a 6.5" x 6.25" space to work. Also there is a pile of stuff - boxed kitchen appliances, contents of cupboards, etc. - in the center of the kitchen which makes it difficult for The Sighted to navigate. I put it in the middle of the floor because Ruth never sets sail across the open floor. She prefers to work the perimeter. Therefore, the pile is not in her way. It is in ours. Yay, me.
Essentially we are living in the worst of both worlds. Downstairs is a mess because Chris is repairing holes in walls. Upstairs is a mess because everything's on its way downstairs. Tonight at dinner Ruth apologized for spilling some of her rice on the floor and I was all, "LIKE IT MATTERS." Our floors. Gah.
On the bright side, Studley decided that he was potty trained - the day before school started.
Which is a lesson for me. I agonized over the not-trained-in-time-for-school issue all summer. I may have possibly wrecked summer for myself and those around me in my agony. And yet, all is well. In its right time. When will I learn?
I am sure that this moving thing will also happen in its right time, with or without my agonizing over it. There are things out of my control (specifically, Chris), and I need to be at peace with that. After all, we have FOUR DAYS to be out of the upstairs and into the downstairs. Four. That's a day per family member.
How could this possibly go wrong?