March 29, 2011

Crank Pot is Me

New Jersey missed the memo that it is currently spring. We're dealing with January temperatures here where the mercury dips down into the freezing zone at night and barely gets enough sunshine out during the day to do a damn warmth wise. It is so cold for March that we had to turn out heater back on, after we though we shut it down for the season two weeks ago.

In this weather it tends to be the wind that does you in comfort wise. Turning an otherwise enjoyable sunny cold weather day, into some sort of horrible blustery experience where you curse the sky for taunting you with cold sunshine and whatever the reason is that makes you be outside. It's been in that cold sunshine where we've been spending some quality weekend time at the garage lately.

However, once there I've been maxing out after two hours of work because the weather and house situation makes me incredibly grumpy. Pete witnesses his normally way perky wife morph into some sort of snappy bitch from hell in about 90 minutes. The last half hour has got to be torture for him as I stomp around the place ready to snap necks, complete with eye rolling and glares. Until I finally give up work in a fit and go to the warmest place in the house to stew in silence alone. Sitting on the plastic wrapped screen porch on top of an empty dresser. Staring at the rusty screens and astro turfed cement, wondering what the hell I was thinking with this house, with all our houses, until it is time to leave.

The worst part about my fits is that I can't stop it from happening and nothing short of leaving the work site gets me back to normal. My natural disposition is to be an optimist that has a perma smile plastered on my face. That crummy attitude isn't who I am at all. But the houses are just draining me right now. I feel like they're four giant leeches that I can't shake off even though I so desperately want to be rid of them and move on with my life.

Anyone whose ever done any home renovations who didn't tell you that they hit low points along the journey is full of lies. Lying to safe face about their decision. Lying to themselves. Or so pumped full of something that makes all work blend into a happy fuzzy haze.

Overall, I'm frustrated at our shitty homes and a little burnt out. Those feelings are just my reality right now. Will I turn around again? Yes. I know I will. Being cyclical with my emotions is a standard MO for me. Sometime along the line I'll get my optimism back, my drive and the ability to pound out 12 hour shifts of hard work for our future on our craptastic houses. But currently, I want to stew in the cold non-spring weather being a miserable bitch about everything house related.

There you go.

True confessionals of a DIY'er.

6 comments:

  1. I feel like this awful weather puts everyone in a funk. I can't imagine the frustration that comes with home renovation. Exactly why I had to buy new construction. I'm definitely not built for it, but I love to read about it!

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  2. I know how you feel. I am sick of the cold. I need to be able to leave the house without wearing a sheep tio keep warm.

    It is so easy to get pissed off and frustrated. I want to move into our house so badly, but we just keep working on it so damned slowly. Ugh!

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  3. Ugh- I'm right there with you.
    Lots of love from M.O.M.

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  4. Another person who uses "craptastic"!! I heart you. It'll be summer soon and we'll all get our vibes back. In the meantime, this is why the sweet baby Jesus created beer & wine.

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  5. I so hear you, and we are only up against painting and spackling ceilings and walls... It can be difficult to get motivated and remember to work in "baby steps."

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  6. When I'm finding myself hitting those walls - I start volunteering (or even scheduling) myself to be "errand girl". "I'll go pick up lunch!" "We don't need to pick up X on the way to the site, I'll need to break after I finish Y and I'll run for it then - while Y dries!" Getting out of the place completely and taking a 30-40 min breather usually sets me up for round two just fine.

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