I returned home Saturday after being in five cities in seven days.  This is the sort of thing that I do to myself.  As I was making these plans – a two day driving trip to Bentonville to see the Stuart Davis exhibit (for the love of Pete – go! it’s fantastic) then to Tulsa, my hometown (to prove to someone that while the surface is a nice veneer, the construction is undoubtably builder’s grade) followed by a four day college tour in the Pacific Northwest with my middle – it occurred to me that this was insanity.  Then I said, “Oh, heavens, it will be fine.”

It was both fine and complete insanity at the same time.  By which I mean, the company was beyond reproach and each city was a delight, but it was a helluva lot of moving around.

I returned home to more of the same.  I know this will amuse some of you, but I forgot that a renovation takes a fair amount of energy.  I’ve wanted to do these projects since I bought the house.  I’ve planned for them.  I’m excited about them.

But I forgot the number of decisions, the “oh, we found something today and…” and the mess.  I did not forget the physical mess, but the mess in messing with old houses.  The contractor and the plumber are concerned about – I don’t know – pipes or something.

The upside of this concern and the ensuing destruction is that the second floor bath, which was one of my first priorities, but firmly on my contractor’s “Let’s do the third floor and see if we still like each other” list has now become part of Phase I. Which, while there is mess, means more tile, more plumbing, more fixtures.  More fun.