Frustration

I’m going up with architect Joan on Thursday to check on all the progress on the house. I probably will need a film crew to record all the advances and reams of paper to note the differences from the last time I was there. Yes, it’s going to be seminal day in the history of my house. I wonder if I should bring Windex and paper towels (oops, wait, no windows) along with other cleaning supplies (where are the finished surfaces?). If there is enough time, maybe I will buy some groceries (alas, no pantry) and prepare something (too bad, no kitchen) to eat before we head back to the city.

One might notice a slight tinge of sarcasm, even though I have done my best to conceal  my frustration. I can hear my client’s saying to me, “now you know how we feel!” Good thing they can’t here me saying “&%#&*()&$#!” I know at the end of the day, or most probably at the end of the year, I will love the house and be very happy there. I’m thinking that once I’m installed in the house, all the minor problems will be just that—minor, and easy to deal with. For example:

“Mitch, do you think you might come over and show me where the drain in the basement is, I noticed that many of the items I’ve stored there are now floating down Brokeback Mountain.”

“Mitch, are you sure that the thermostatic valve in my shower is suppose to work as a light dimmer? When I adjusted the water temperature all the lights in the house went dark.”

“Mitch, perhaps you could improvise a pulley system for the 10-foot-tall, 36-inch-wide steel and dual-paned glass doors. Even with the aid of my two Sumo wrestler house guests, we couldn’t operate them.”

“Mitch, I was a little disturbed when my Hindu guests compared walking across my radiant heated floors to THIMITHI, the ritual of walking on hot coals. Maybe a slight adjustment would be in order.”

Yes, dealing with problems is just a matter of one’s state of mind.