[AKA: Please let this be menopause]
Home renovations are stressful at the best of times. Add in the fact that I know I’m making these ones to sell a home I love and you’ve got a whole whack of emotions simmering just barely below the surface. One false move and the dam bursts open.
On Mondays I normally post a weekly workout recap. Today will not be one of those Mondays.
Last week’s activity amounted to:
- Boxing up books, mementos, photo albums and other sentimental things in order to clear all walls for painting
- Packing up my son’s bedroom, essentially stripping it of all his personality, in order to stage it in more neutral and soothing tones and furnishings
- Taping every baseboard, window and door frame in preparation for painting (ongoing we are now on the basement level)
- Painting every baseboard, window and door frame (ongoing, we are now on the upstairs floor)
- Cleaning windows (ongoing; main floor done)
- Scrubbing floors
- Umpteen trips up and down 2 flights of stairs
I have a looming deadline of Friday morning. The aerial photographer is coming in at 11:00 am to shoot stills and videos. Between now and Thursday night, there is still a massive amount of work to be done. To say that I’m on edge about it… well, it would be like saying Mt. Everest is a pretty big mountain.
My temper is running short. My emotions are running high.
I’ve been trying to mask it.
I hate losing my cool.
But my eyes betray me, welling up with tears at the slightest offense.
This morning they were triggered by an emotionally charged run-in with my first-born. Her birthday happens to be today. It’s a milestone. 25.
Instead of celebrating , we were at each other’s throats. And now I can’t stop crying.
I’m either heading into menopause or having a nervous breakdown. Or both.