Well, that's embarrassing.
With carpenters in my kitchen changing everything from wallboard out, I slept in my recliner in the living room. But that's not the embarrassing part. I snored.
That's what the man said. He hung up before I could tell him to at least shake my chair next time I snored.
Backing the carpentry cart up a little, I'll start where the start is. I had to spend money. I hate to spend money, but I had to, so I chose a kitchen renovation. To get myself a dishwasher, mainly, but also to get rid of pink wall tile.
You've gotta wonder about someone choosing pink to tile the bottom half of her kitchen walls. I'm betting on a her - it's too hard to believe a man would have chosen pink.
When I made the decision to renovate, I asked people for recommendations, and several suggested Tim Simmons. He was the first to call back about the job, so the deal was made. Because he wanted the new bank of cupboards he would build ready to go when the wall tear-out was complete, he made the cupboards first. Twice.
You may have seen pictures in The Messenger a while back showing firemen at a business. His business. My new cupboards succumbed to the fire gods, so he had to start over. Finally, Monday he was ready for the house.
I'd been sick a week, not only unable to sleep, but unable to do more than five minutes of any kind of work before wearing out. Which made cleaning out the kitchen iffy, at best. Work. Rest. Work. Rest. Rest. That time I got tired just thinking about work.
As I've told you, I like staying up late and sleeping late, but that seemed wrong, what with the crew pulling in at 8:30. But it's not easy to change sleep hours, so in my infinite wisdom, I stayed up all night Saturday, figuring by 10 p.m. Sunday I'd be so tired that getting to sleep early, thus getting up early, would be no problem.
What I hadn't planned on was the slow-going kitchen clean, so at 1 a.m. Monday I was still struggling with it. Finally I turned out the lights, turned on classic country, sat in my recliner and immediately fell asleep. Right in the middle of Willie's "Stardust."
At 6:15 a.m. Monday, my guardian angel bumped my shoulder and I woke up, got up, finished the kitchen clean, and as I picked up the last dish towel, the doorbell rang.
You know how it is when anticipation gives way to reality and the stress of the unknown leaves. That's when relaxation comes easily. That's when a nap succeeds. Sometimes, too well. You're left sitting in a recliner with your eyes shut and the world drifting away.
My sister Barbara told me the job would go a lot faster if I were to leave the carpenters alone, so I sat it out. Sleeping just happened. With snoring. With a wall being torn out behind me.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson, the former lifestyle editor of The Messenger, is retired. She may be reached at email@example.com.