Grout and Rosita.

We decided to re-do our shower (a.k.a. the "bathtub surround" -according to home improvement how-to books). As usual, we forgot that we aren't blessed with superpowers to finish a project in one weekend. So... here we are in the middle of weekend #2, in the home stretch, which is sometimes the worst place to be. And, when I say "we," it's really been Patrick's project- but since it's all but had him sleeping IN the bathtub, I've been keeping up the rest of the house. Running all those errands, walking the dog, and cooking those meals by myself makes me mega-appreciate Patrick's regular contributions. He does a lot. BUT this ambitious project means that I, by default, must do more than usual. So, I'm really tired, and I'm bitching about it. Thank goodness we're getting to do this stuff before children happen. I can't imagine how anyone gets anything done with kids in the mix. I admire anyone who can- but I can say I'm thankful to no end that we got into the homeowning realm, pre-conception. We would not be re-doing anything if we were already parents, and we would not be paying someone else to do it, either. We'd be living with the mauve, vinyl-sided tub walls until the day we sold the damn place.

Once the tile grout is dry, (T - 48 hrs) I get my shower back- and it will be a much much nicer shower- so it'll all be worth it. But right now, I'm sticky and sweaty and angry- and in order to rinse off I must take my shower basket (yes, the same one I used during college dorm life!) to the clubhouse pool showers. While annoying, it's been a very nice option to take advantage of. When we hiked the AT, going for a week without a shower was all part of the experience, and I accepted it without qualms. But at work I have to sit at a desk in close quarters with several people, and smelling like a hiker isn't as appreciated in that setting.

Speaking of my early morning clubhouse shower escapades... I've had the pleasure of stripping down to the skin in the company of my elderly European companion, Rosita. Rosita is the very sweet, very kind, very chatty little lady of Mountain Home Estates, and she likes to swim at 6 am. I've had the pleasure of showering with her before work for a week, trying hard to politely participate in the conversation -despite the fact I'm used to speaking to no one until my first cup of coffee at 8:30. Here she is at dawn telling me I have a beautiful figure. I'm getting hit on by a female senior citizen. Truthfully, she comes from a generation and culture that would never consider such a compliment as a come-on. All the same, hearing this statement almost made me drop the soap as I thought "Am I still dreaming, because this is all too surreal." Again I'll reiterate that she is the sweetest person I've met in this neighborhood yet, and once she talks for a bit, I find myself engaged in the conversation. As engaged as I can be; talking to a stranger whilst shaving my legs.

I've been writing in installments tonight, in-between grouting the tiles. The project, long as it was, went incredibly smooth until tonight. We've been grouting for 6 hours, it's 11 PM, and we've not eaten since breakfast. The grout decided to dry before we could finish laying it. If ever a Saturday night was not fun, it was this one. And when I did venture to the clubhouse at 10 to clean the grout off my ass (literally) - a big skunk ran in front of me. The dude carrying a sixpack up to his front door looked thoroughly confused as to why I stood stone still in his parking lot, holding a basket of shampoo.

Six pack... sounds like an incredible idea about now.