There’s a question that dogs me these days, everywhere I go. Everyone wants to know the same thing: “How’s the house coming along?”
My answer is always the same: It’s not coming along at all, really. No one’s done any real work on our house for months. We are living in half our house and basically pretending the other half doesn’t exist. My virtual buddy from Bloomington, Lee the Magic Man, asks, “Is it getting close?” No, it’s not anywhere near close. I wish it was.
I don’t begrudge people asking about the house. I just wish I could gripe in response, but I can’t because if ever I do complain, inevitably the person I’m talking to has a sadder story than me. Mike swears he’s going to have someone here on Monday to start rewiring. And of course I believe him. After all, I ate Thanksgiving dinner at his house. We’re practically family.