We are several weeks into this remodel, and it's going very very slowly. For way too long the room that was once our tiny kitchen has just been a dark, grubby hole behind a sheet of viscuine, and the progress that has been made is the invisible kind (electrical, insulation). We don't even have a front window -- just a sheet of plywood that they remove every day to move supplies in and out through.
This week we finally saw movement. Walls arrived on Friday. That makes me feel better.
Anyhoo, on Friday we went out to see Waipuna. They were fabulous and hilarious and inspiring as always. When I see them I want to dig deeper into Hawaiian music and culture. And the audience at this venue draws friends we don't usually get to see and new friends that we make there. Love this venue. Went home happy.
So we're driving home and I really have to go. So much so that 5 miles from the house I have my purse in my lap and my keys in my hand. As we drive up to the house mrguy says "Go ahead!" I get up to the front door, try the key and the lock's acting funny. Maybe I had too much beer? "I can't get it to go -- mrguy, try your key!" Yeahno. His isn't working, either. We'd let the drywall guys lock up themselves, and it seems that they made some adjustments to the lock. We had to figure out how to get in by other means. First we had to clear our heads by clearing our bladders.
The last time I urinated in public was in 1985 under the High St. overpass. My boyfriend's stupid old car had a shimmy in the frame and, rounding the curve on the exit, the frame of the car pinched the brake cable, permanently throwing the brake and stranding it across the two lanes of traffic. He didn't have a AAA membership and neither did I. The stranded motorist plan I had via my parents was the ever-so-budget National Auto Association. It was like the Discover Card of tow services. You know you have it but you don't know who takes it and people laugh when you suggest that you use it. I called for help (after walking a mile in my Deliso pumps to find a phone booth in a seriously skeevy industrial neighborhood in the dark). Help did not arrive for several hours during which I really had to go. Didn't help that we were going to a concert and I was wearing a leotard, tights, a dress and pumps. Back at our underpass I had to practically get 100% undressed behind a concrete pole in order to take a whiz.
Similarly, on Friday there were not other bathroom options. But the hilltop that gives us great views also gives the neighbors a good view of us. Not like they were sitting in their windows waiting for me to doff my pants, but I felt a little shy. I ended up taking a plastic bucket into the breezeway in our backyard and peed my little heart out. Much better!
At nearly midnight it's not easy to find a locksmith. While I called around, mrguy seized upon a plan -- the window. He found a screwdriver in his car, took the plywood off the kitchen window and vaulted himself into the kitchen. My hero!
No moral, here. Another kitchenless day begins. I let the little cat start the first round of dishwashing, followed by a good scrub in the half bath.