So close and yet so far

I did it. I cracked the shits and moved out of the dustbowl. We're now living with my parents five minutes down the round.

I'm pretty sure my mum and dad's neighbours think I've left Map Guy. They saw me single handedly (MG was at work) hauling a couple of suitcases, kids, a still limping dog, a scooter and a computer in to the house, with tears threatening to roll down my face at any moment. Because the crazy is just under the surface right now and it bubbles up to the top for all to see a couple of times a day.

We are so close to being finished with the dusty, dirty side of the renos - quite possibly only a week or two left - but I just couldn't handle it any longer. Walking around with all our belongings piled up in corners, feeling grit under foot and seeing a fresh layer of dust over everything at the end of each day despite drop sheets and high powered professional vacuums to reduce it all.

Brick dust gets fucking everywhere. I think I hate it more than the sand and that is really saying something. At least with sand I can sweep or vacuum it up myself - this shit needs a professional vacuum or it explodes the motor. I don't even want to think about what it is doing to my kids' lungs if it can fuck up German engineering.

The other day our only livable space outside of the master bedroom became off limits as a new wall went up. Tricky's bed, which had been a mattress on the floor by night, then up against the wall by day so there was at least some room to move, now doesn't fit in the space. What will be the play room is currently looking like an op shop with all the furniture crammed in there. I was climbing over a coffee table and tripping over a block trolley to get the kids clothes every morning. And when you're as anxious as I am right now, it doesn't make for the best start to the day. Plus it smells like cement and is covered in bloody brick dust.

Dusty and old (with blue rectangle of doom)

But amongst the woe is me attitude there is always time to stop and think of those less fortunate. Like the people who lived there when that wall was blue. We moved the aircon unit the other day and the thought on everyone's mind was who the hell chose that blue? Oh right, probably my dad. 

So we really had no choice but to leave for this last part. Because dust and a rectangle of horrid blue means the place isn't fit for human habitation right now.

Instead of living in grime we've chosen the lesser of two evils and are now living out of suitcases. And even though it is my parents house and I can help myself to food, have my kids looked after and even get my washing done if I want (and I do want), I still can't relax. I'm itching to get home even though when we get there it will still need painting, a floor and furniture. But at least I'll be able to walk around in my undies if I want (and I do want), without worrying that the neighbours are going to see me.

Shiny and new!

It's the biggest first world problem around, but bloody hell, I'm really struggling with all of this. The bookies wouldn't take your bet on whether I'll end up in the loony bin because it is almost a sure thing. But whilst in said loony bin you can bet I'd be wagging therapy to check out Pinterest to figure out how to decorate my new lounge room. Because PRIORITIES.

I'm clicking my heels together and chanting that there's no place like home but so far all that has happened is that my shoes are showing signs of wear and I'm tripping over my own feet (related: must buy new shoes). I'm hoping that taking a step away these last few weeks will stop me tipping completely over the edge. Now if only Tricky would stop being so sad that we're not seeing our builders daily.