Musings from the Kitchen Floor

From my seat on the kitchen floor, I see the uneven rough pieces of plaster and studs where a wall used to stand.  Beyond that, in the adjoining room there are walls torn down to the studs and a ceiling that has started to be framed.  There are exposed wires and broken and missing tiles and a radiator that sits like a sentinel in the middle of the floor. This is only one room.  There is an entire house around me that is in this state or worse.  And here is the real kicker. . . it is all mine.  The whole f-ing house is now mine.

Go back about eight months for a little background.  My contractor husband decided on New Years Eve that he would leave.  We had had some discussions in the preceding months regarding his unhappiness, but I was caught off guard.  In the "Dear Judy letter" he left he indicated that the kitchen would be done by our daughter's 7th birthday (4 weeks away) and my roof would be repaired in the Spring.  Well it is now September and most certainly has not lifted a finger.  Once the initial shock wore off and I peeled myself off the floor, I had to face the reality that I had to finish the renovation of my once beautiful Second Empire French Victorian house all by myself.  So I started, with the help of friends and family, to put together a plan.   First I had to get through the divorce, and then once the house was mine, the work could start.  But that did not mean that I could not start on the yard.  

View from the floor. . .
Guess the only way is up!