BASEMENT DWELLER

Aaaarrrggghhh!  I would not do well in a basement apartment or a jail cell.  I like to see a little light, even on cloudy days.   It's starting to get to me, this living in the basement.  (OK. It's a daylight basement with a couple of big windows at ground level; still feels a bit subterranean.)

Plus, I'm a whiner.  Being a creature of comfort, familiarity, and routine, I'm feeling off-kilter and out of sorts in this displacement.

We moved out of most of our living space a week ago to have all the floors refinished on the main level of our house, which meant we also had no access to our upstairs master bedroom.   Hub pulled the truck camper up the driveway and we slept in that for three nights, occasionally accessing our basement level when the fumes from the Swedish floor finish didn't drive us out.  That stuff has got to be toxic as hell and I am now feeling ignorant and guilty for not researching alternative floor treatments more seriously.  We had it done years ago too, and I just went with what we know.  But I guess there are other products that don't pump lung-busting, liver-putrefying fumes into the environment.  Too late now.  The floors are finished and look absolutely amazingly beautiful.  So there's that.

But we are still in the basement for the most part, since we decided that with absolutely every single thing we own that is usually in those rooms now stacked floor to ceiling in two main floor bedrooms, we might as well paint too.  Hub has spent the past two days doing an OCD job of "prepping", meaning "bagging" and taping all the exposed woodwork, cabinets, hardware, fixtures, etc etc before we even pick up a roller or a brush.   (I don't know why painters call this process "bagging", although I guess it does look like you put everything in a plastic bag.  It's basically covering stuff up to prevent paint splatters.  See this photo of the kitchen partially "bagged".  Also note those gorgeous floors!  Yes, we should have painted first, but we couldn't cuz of scheduling, so now there are tarps over every square inch of flooring.  Just to add to the stress.)

Son One gets home from a family vacation tomorrow and Hub is counting on him to pitch in with his 15 years of residential professional painting experience and lightning fast speed with a roller.  Sometimes they have a difference of opinion in approach, but Hub totally respects Son One's skills, so they find a place of peace generally.  Last year they worked on the exterior painting together and lived to tell about it, and are still talking to each other to this day, so I'm optimistic.

While the floors were being done, Hub got several truck loads of topsoil and spread it across our side yard and then seeded it to address the depressions and hardpan bare spots that have plagued the lawn area for years.  I'm still tending my raised veggie beds and trying to find the right combination of plantings for the berms.  I'm starting to realize that never really ends.

All of it sort of gets wearying at times, but we recognize how fortunate we are to have such a beautiful piece of property and this old family home that holds so many memories.  It thrills us to have our family close by to visit here often.  And sharing all this with our grand girls is beyond wonderful.  So, we plug away.

And really, I shouldn't complain so much.   When I say, "basement", it's not exactly dark and dank down here.  I'm sitting in our "game room" which we decorated as Seahawks Headquarters a couple years ago.  It's a little cluttered with temporary food prep tables set up and piles of this and that scattered around, but not really terrible.  See?  I'm a total whiner.

So, when Hub told me he feels pressured to get all the painting done asap to make me happy again, I realized I need to stop complaining and start appreciating his efforts.  He's a conscientious and persistent worker who tackles our home projects with unwavering dedication to helping create a beautiful space for any who live or visit here.   We agreed that the kitchen is the priority since when you are displaced from a kitchen, the heart of the home, it just feels "wrong" and also majorly inconvenient (restaurants and Costco prepared food have been our go-to for a week now).   Get us the kitchen back and I'll sit on lawn chairs in the living room for the rest of the summer, happily.  So that's the plan.  But knowing Hub, we will be ready to move back upstairs in a jiffy.  He lets no project languish in an unfinished state for long.

And when my eyes adjust to the light, I know I will see a thing of beauty.

At least, that's the view from here...©