Nesting Complications

Until recently, Craig and I were unsure we'd be staying in our current apartment, to put it mildly. To be not-so-mild: I panicked.

Craig doesn't panic, which is something I really appreciate about him. But I tend to panic, and I did. I scoured Craig's List for cheaper but still well-maintained  and dog-friendly two-bedroom apartments on the ground floor (for the dogs, groceries, and soon-coming baby) in a nice part of town with plenty of storage space, ideally within walking distance of a park, and in a location that would not add more drive-time to Craig's commute. Ha! Turns out such things don't exist around here. And the more I prayed about it, the more I felt God telling me we just need to trust Him a bit more and stay put.

Well, once that decision was made, we turned our attention to other things. We picked up paint swatches and soon our conversations became peppered with debates over the pros and cons of "powdered blush" versus "southern belle" and the amount of red undertones to be found in "chocolate sprinkle" versus "chocolate cocoa."

We also decided it's time to start moving furniture around in order to transform the "study" into a "nursery." We moved the "reading nook" chair from the living room to the bedroom and the piano from the former "music nook" to the former "reading nook." The plan is to eventually move the desk and filing cabinet from the study to the former "music nook" and thus have ourselves a nursery. Phew.

Well, when we moved the piano to its new location two weeks ago, this is what we found:

That's right: that would be mold coupled with some severe water damage. Turns out the pipes from the kitchen angle off toward this particular wall. It further turns out that the wall in the storage space under the kitchen sink is "wet" and the mold specialist suspects there's mold inside that wall as well. The suspicion is that there are pipe problems. Either that, or the massive amounts of rain we've had lately somehow soaked its way through the exterior wall. Because of the piano's position, we missed all this happening (and yes, the piano is mold-free and in working condition).

Well, like I said, that was two weeks ago. A week later, our landlord managed to bring the mold specialist guy over. After getting the mold specialist's estimate of costs, he decided to go through his insurance. A week after that, the insurance adjuster and construction manager came by. The insurance adjuster said they'd only cover it if it was a "one time" deal; she said that the construction manager and mold specialist would have to tell her if it was a "one time" deal. The construction manager said they won't be able to know what caused the mold until they cut the wall out. The landlord said he didn't want to cut the wall out until he knew insurance would cover it (I'm thinking, "Dude, you have to cut the wall out regardless"). Meanwhile, none of these people are putting on HAZMAT suits when they come over so I'm guessing I'm okay. The landlord told me the mold specialist told him that the air quality was "still good."

The "good" news is that the construction crew is coming to section off my former music nook and kitchen, knock out the walls, suction the moldy air into some special container, bleach and scrub and suck some more until all the mold is gone. This is estimated to take two days. They will then leave my house in an unfinished state while the mold specialist takes readings and then waits two days to get the results. Once the results come in (assuming the results are good), a different construction crew will come in and take two days (hopefully no more) to put everything back together. This is starting tomorrow morning at 9am.

Realizations have slowly dawned on me. Like the fact that I'll be stuck in a house with construction crews and high-stress dogs for a total of four days (maybe more). The fact that, in addition to not being able to cook anything, I also won't have a kitchen sink, which means either buying bottled water or filling my Brita pitcher in the tub. I hope to avoid doing dishes in the tub by stocking up on plastic bowls and canned soups for lunches and frozen waffles and paper plates for breakfasts.

It also means that everything from our kitchen had to be removed to a) make room for the construction crews and b) prevent myself from needing to scrub everything really good after the mold "exposure" process. Here's what our house looks like right now:

The refrigerator has temporarily displaced my music stand and violin.

Glassware fills the console table behind our sofa and bakeware has taken up residence on our piano bench.

Our dining table holds an assortment of kitchen odds-and-ends.

Most of our appliances (toaster, microwave, crockpot, etc.) have a new home on the island (which will not be sectioned off but which, unfortunately, has no electrical outlets).

Meanwhile, our kitchen plates and cups are stacked on this soon-to-be-craigs-listed desk in the room that was once a study and is now a desolate sort of transition room (the room in which I find myself spending the majority of each day).

My plan for this afternoon is to move all of the other kitchen stuff from our living and dining areas and into this room. If Craig and I have to eat take-out for a week, we should at least be able to eat it sitting at a table like civilized adults.

I suppose you could look at all this and say, "Well, at least they caught the mold before the baby came and the air quality went kaput." You're probably right. But unless you're inviting me over for dinner sometime in the next week, I don't really feel like hearing that right now.