My suite life

Since Monday night, I've been living out of two rooms in a massive Victorian on the other side of town.

I'm glad I did this because my home is a wreck. My (only) bathroom is completely unusable: the toilet is parallel to the wall and the sink is in the living room. My new tub is in, but it's filled with work tools.

I go home every night to check on the cats -- oh, the mess they're making in the bedroom! -- and bring in the mail and feel the lump in my throat whenever I look at the bathroom.

I was told by Don (the boss) that it was a "3 to 5 day job." It looks like it's really a 5 1/2 day job. The overages are because of my building, I'm told. It's so hard to get supplies up through elevator. The parking area is way in the back. It eats up all this time. Yeah, right. Don was in my building twice -- first for the estimate, then to do some preliminary measurements. I haven't changed the location of the elevator or the parking lot since he's been here.

Meantime, I'm here. In this little suite of rooms. Watching Netflix and sleeping a lot. It's quiet and comfortable. The man who owns this massive house -- two addresses on two streets -- turned these rooms into a separate suite for his daughter to use when she was home from college. Well, she's graduated and moved away and he's renting it as an Airbnb.

I'm still sick with worry about Henry. I feel stressed about work (even though I took Thursday and Friday off). I am nervous about the expense and progress of my remodel. So I come in, slip into my pjs, binge watch about the Royal Family, and go to bed before 10:00.

Tonight is my last night here. It's been very nice, but I want to go home. I want to put my bathroom and bedroom back as they were. I want my old life back, just with a new bathroom. I want to relax again.