Finishing the Basement

*pictures of the progression - from tunneling to the pipes to cabinets going in. I will post more once it's completed.

Since January 4th, I have been alone in my house four times. That's it. Jan. 4th was the day the demolition crew jackhammered into our basement floors to dig around the pipes that were heaving up from the expanding bentonite in the soil. We had two 4x4 holes in the floor and the crew, on their bellies, hand dug their way to the crooked pipes. Jon, always spontaneous, said in those first few days "Hey, since they have the holes in the floor, let's go ahead and finish the basement. We'd have to have them put pipes in anyway to put in a bar sink. What do you think?" If he expected me to leap from the couch with enthusiasm, he did not get that reaction. Instead, I cried. My house is 4000 sq. feet and I can barely keep up with the cleaning as it is. Adding another 1300 sq. feet completely squashed my hopes of ever being a good housekeeper. After promises of "I'll be really, really helpful with cleaning it" from Jon, I stopped crying and started getting excited as we talked about how we wanted it to look. We drew up our floor plan ideas, submitted them to our contractor, and the project developed a heartbeat.

It is now April and the "finishing" is not finished. We were promised a May finale, and it looks like that will actually happen. The carpet is delayed a bit, our fireplace is stuck in customs and no one seems to know which country's customs have it held prisoner, and the barstools we ordered online arrived - a very anticlimactic arrival, I might add. They look like barstools for anorexic hobbits. When describing them to Jon over the phone, I sat on them and gave him this scientific evaluation: "if your rear end is larger than a size 8, it's probably going to hang, droop and ooze out over the edge." We are sending them back. But according to construction lore that I've heard, those are all minor setbacks, so it is nice to say that we have no true renovation horror stories. We're on track time wise; other than a few things, nothing has gone wrong. That's not to say it's been uneventful, just not catastrophic. A few things that have happened/been observed:

*My garbage disposal backed up one afternoon. It was clogged, and not one more thing could be shoved down its throat. Since I didn't have that information as I plunged pasta into its guts and turned on the disposal, it burst all over one guy working downstairs. He came up, knocked on the basement door, and after looking at him, I didn't need him to tell me that there was a problem. He was wearing my lunch.

*Jon and I have learned that we do projects really well together. I suspect that, were he honest, he wanted to do the basement because our marriage hit a dull spot for three minutes and he thought "hmmm, this will give us something to talk about at dinner."

*Marin, who despises the noise coming from the basement from 8 am to 6 pm, does love planning how it's going to look and loves helping us pick out our purchases. Her only grievance was that we didn't put a black toilet in the bathroom.

*One of the guys, Justin, brought his breakfast here one morning. I went down to talk to him about laying out the tile and heard munching and gulping behind me, and it didn't sound like a noise Kenny, Justin's partner, would make. We turned around to see the last of his breakfast going into my dog's mouth. I made him triple chocolate brownies later, and sent some home with him. Later that night, Belle managed to hoist herself onto the counter and ate the rest of the brownies out of the pan. Good food day for the dog.

*On one of the four days that I did not have people in my house, I was so delighted with the silence that I celebrated by turning music on loudly while I showered. Marin was at preschool, Jon was at work, and I had the entire house, top to bottom, to myself. Judge all you want, but I find it impossible to hear Adam Lambert and not sing along. Even in my most foul mood, I just can't help myself. So I sang my heart out, attempting to hit notes only meant for Adam's voice, when it suddenly dawned on me that all of my bedroom and bathroom windows were open, and I live in close, close proximity to my neighbors. I knew I should be embarrassed to be 36 and giving the neighborhood a bad concert, but hey... it's Adam, and I can't fight the forces of nature. I shrugged and kept singing.

*I really like shiny things. When looking for fixtures and tile, I gravitated to anything that reflects light. Sure, that's practical in a basement, but that was just my excuse. My light fixture choices are over the top shiny and the tile in the bathroom is practically a disco ball.

*My golden retriever went from being the worst guard dog in the universe to one likely to bite someone's hand off if they come in the house without my permission. I have big, burly, hardened men coming to my house daily and have been asked multiple times to "call off my dog." Who knew? I can't decide if I'm proud or nervous.

*The guys who have worked in my basement have put me to eternal shame. They work long hours, weekends, and do dirty, difficult, and perfect work and somehow have time to talk to me when I feel chatty. They are creating our dream basement. And what do I do with my time that's worthwhile? (when Marin's at preschool, I mean) Write this blog, of course. It's a little shameful that while they are framing, drywalling, painting, laying tile, etc., I am just wishing night would hurry and and get here so I can watch Lost or read a book. Really, I am not a lazy person, but these men are in a special work ethic category.

I can't wait for the basement project to be completed. I have parties to throw, the Lost finale to watch down there, and I can be on the phone without getting interrupted by the sound of a saw. And I will have my house to myself for a few hours a week once again. Adam Lambert and I will be singing a duet again...