I have no roof. Well, I guess our bedroom ceiling is now technically our roof – but that peaked thing with shingles and gutters? It’s currently in a confetti of pieces across my yard and in my bushes. It’s a jigsawed heap in the suv-sized dumpster that’s conquered an unfair share of my driveway.
On Tuesday when I left for school, I had a roof. I came home to a house that looked like grandma in a shower cap – roof off and tarps bungee-corded around the frame.
Yesterday I came home and half the new frame was up. It’s crazy. What was once the attic door is now a stairway up to the sky.
When you climb the stairs and stand amongst the scattered nails and planks, it’s a little bit scary.
I’m looking through a hole in the frame that will be a window, but I can also look through the walls-that-aren’t-there and the absent roof.
All I can tell so far is that our bathroom and new writing nook will have awesome views.
I don’t have great visual-spatial intelligence, or at least not when it comes to construction or furniture maneuvering.
I was the college student who talked her roommate into moving all our stuff into the hall so we could ‘rearrange,’ but then when we moved it all back in, it didn’t fit. (Sorry, Jenny!)
And when I try and pack a suitcase or a car – don’t expect it to be efficient or organized. And obviously it’s not all going to fit and the most essential items will be left behind.
(I was also the college student who went home for a month-long winter break and forgot to pack underwear.)
So when I look at board and holes or even the architect’s plans, my brain can’t translate from those to a finished room. I can’t tell if it’s going to look huge or tiny. Is the new closet massive (fingers crossed!) or just maneuverable? Will Matt whack his head on the hanging lantern I’ve chosen for the bathroom, or will it hover helpfully a few inches above his hair?
It frustrates me that Matt seems able to look around the construction chaos and see a finished product. I look around and see board and beams – and then I stumble over a scrap of wood.
I guess I’ll just have to be patient and wait – but when have I ever been good at that?