Rebuilding, part 2

The project manager

In part 1 we explained how we came to make the mess shown above. Since then that pile of former foundation has been carted away, and probably half a dozen similar loads as well--there's no getting around the fact that construction generates a huge amount of garbage. Nor that it consumes a lot of material. But to what end?

Brand new back half

Our original plan was to rebuild the back of the house, the front porch, and the roof, leaving the middle of the house (kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, bathroom) largely untouched. Along the way, however, we realized a few things:

• That moving into a new house with an old kitchen (we had planned to upgrade the equipment but not the layout) would make Talia sad.
  
• That having a new bathroom that we continued to share with the two boys (because their bathroom doesn't have a shower) would make both of us sad.
• That having our chimney collapse would make everyone sad especially if it killed someone.
  

So now every room is involved in reconstruction to some degree, if only because we've also decided to replace all the windows, all the siding, all the wiring, and now all the plumbing even in the old part of the house.

Taking down the chimney

I haven't the courage to look at the budgeting spreadsheet so am free to fantasize about the outcome. My fantasies are these:

• That I will not hear the coffee grinder in the morning (though coffee will be waiting for me when I do get up), nor the kids roistering off to school.
• That our bedclothes will now and then be aired on a deck conveniently adjacent to my bedroom.
  
• That my bathroom will be warm and lovely and mostly available when I want it, with my towel where I left it.
  
• That I will not experience a wave of panic when a guest asks if they can use the facilities.
• That when cooking we will not be poisoned by noxious gasses and particulates.
• That when the air outside is full of noxious gasses and particulates we will be safe from them inside. And that regardless of the air outside, the air inside will not be freezing cold nor sweatingly hot.
  
• That should I leave a record on the turntable it will not melt in the hot sun.

That the house will now be unlikely to catch fire (and sprinklered if it does), will stop subsisting into the earth, will run with relatively low operational carbon, and will not offend the neighbors are all good things, too.

Bye bye fireplace, hello big windows

I am also excited for Talia, who will have something more like the kitchen she deserves, a proper office, a luxurious bath, and more closet space to use in that very special way she uses closet space.

In part 3 I hope to share pictures of a largely complete project, and I hope to do so soon.

No, you may not have a mouse in the house

Adorable disease vector?

Some months ago Gideon began making repeated requests for a pet of his own, specifically of the rodent variety. We have a lot going on, so turned him down flat. There may have been off-hand talk of "once we move back into the old house we might consider it," but Gideon would be a fool to take that as any kind of promise and Gideon is no fool. Nor, of course, is he obedient or easily stymied, so we should not have been surprised when he showed up one day not with a pet but with a pet home, a gnaw-proof acrylic container he'd purchased from a store. We took it from him, along with the receipt, and got his/our money back, a clear, so to speak, restatement of our no-rodent policy.

Not clear enough: we are eating dinner one day last week when Gideon calmly mentions that he found a baby mouse and has arranged for it to live at our house-under-construction. At first I think he's joking, but it's an odd joke even for Gid and I'm simply not that lucky. So after dinner we walk over to the construction site where we find, as described, a mouse living in a shoebox. A tiny thing, it's eyes not yet open, utterly helpless...I feel a little bad telling Gid that it really doesn't have a chance: at this age, a pup needs the warmth and feeding that only a mama mouse can provide. But Gideon is certain, with that certainty of his, that it will live. Fine, Gid, here's the deal: we'll put it in the shed and if it survives the cold, cold night we'll figure out what to do in the morning.

Growing up

It survives. And so begins a week of days--and what feels like many more nights--of feeding, via paint brush and eyedropper and pool in the palm of your hand, warmed goat's milk to this tiny, frantically hungry thing, which, from one day to another opens its eyes, unfolds its ears, and, by the end of the week, is giving Qubit a run for her money in the cute department. So now we have a mouse living in our laundry sink, feasting on sesame seeds and cream cheese. It recognizes its hosts, comes out of its hay pile when clucked at, climbs your hand, and finds dark safety in a fold of your shirt while you are watching TV. Some of us--Talia, Qubit--are pointedly ignoring it, but for my own part, despite the sleep deprivation, I'm charmed.

Who's cuter?

Among Brekkie's more popular posts are the occasional stories of Gideon vs. Alec (ice cream, laptop destruction, curtain destruction). They all take the same form: Gideon wants what Alec does not and guess who wins. This story is, seemingly, in that rich tradition: Gideon triumphs again, employing focus and force of will, and by playing the long game. But this time that's only part of the story. Because this time I ended up wanting Gid to win. And because this time he lost.

Back where you belong

Store-bought mice typically live only a couple of years, and a wild mouse in the wild is lucky to live even that long. However, wild mice in captivity can live seven years or more. This raises an interesting philosophical dilemma: is it better to live your natural life, foraging and mating and fighting and mating and wandering and mating, for a single year, or to have seven years in jail not doing much of anything? I know the right answer, and Gid did too. Farewell sweet mouse, and thank you, Gideon, for arranging this very special experience for both of us.