At lunchtime today, my wife and I went down to the house, where the crew had helpfully put a ladder up against the porch. My wife climbed up first and unlocked the door, then found she couldn’t open it. I made my way up there and applied a bit of brute force to shove it open; the lifting of the house has shifted the door frame slightly, and although we closed it again afterwards, it’s impossible to lock. Hopefully nobody tries to break in.
We had gone in to retrieve some documents, and our camping chairs. The house is swathed with plastic sheeting inside to protect from dust, and negotiating our way through it was like being in a low budget zombie film from fifteen years ago. In the bedroom, there’s a large hole in the wall where the chimney was demolished and we can look down to the basement. More than ever, I want a laundry chute.
We didn’t find the documents I needed (because I’d already taken them when we moved out) but we got everything else and then clambered back down again. The house continues to approach a semblance of normality. Ok, it’s up in the air, but the foundation is poured, painted with waterproofing material, and the wooden lumber with the tie-downs has been set on top. Maybe in less than two weeks we’ll have the house lowered into place and I can get my electrician friend to do the necessary rewiring.
I worked like mad the rest of today (it has been a very long week, and there’s still another day to go) and then went climbing, though I’m really tired at the moment and feeling weak. I’m looking forward to the weekend, even if there isn’t going to be any bowling…