You should see our garage. It looks like some groovy Arabian Nights playroom. The walls-- adorned with purple sheets, on clearance from Fred Meyer. The floor-- covered with remnant carpet samples of varying sizes. At the far end sits my little blue tent, once used during Zach's away-track meets to entertain Taylor, more recently a bedroom for Taylor during our latest remodel.
We don't seem to do remodels the normal way around here. They generally follow some sort of catastrophe: a dairy truck accident, a flood. (I'm keeping particular eye on matches these days.) Our latest mishap occurred this winter when someone forgot about a filling bathtub, apparently distracted by American Idol and that red-headed kid who sounds like Sinatra. Did you know that after a tub fills past the faucet level, it doesn't make that water-rushing sound anymore?
Anyway, when I first walked into the wet, I guessed nobody had let the dog out for a very, very long time. Then I noticed the stream flowing down the hall and the deep pool in the bathroom. Toy boats would have floated in there.
The next morning our insurance company sent up a yellow truck from Albany with "Disaster Restorations" on the side. Our neighbors, recalling our peculiar history, loved it.
Up popped the Pergo, pieced down the hall to the entry and kitchen. Out with the bathroom vinyl! Enter Larry, "the Sandman," the Hardwood King of Oregon, the perfectionist who makes clients move out of their own houses. We retreated downstairs, happy for our day-light basement.
I told Annie that Daddy and I would be taking her queen bed. She cried. Jim took the couch. Taylor slept in the tent on a low cot with a camping lantern for light, not far from the displaced kitchen table and refrigerator. The dog was so confused. Our laundry room served as a make-shift kitchen with microwave and toaster, stocked with every carbohydrate imaginable. (We aren't Atkins people.)
Larry the Sandman made us leave the house entirely during the chemical sealant portion of his magic. Fortunately, my parents took us in. We had a sweet time with my folks; it was the best part of this ordeal. My old bedroom has the nicest guest bed in the house now and I got to sleep in that room for the first time since December 17, 1982, the night before our wedding. I slept much better there than that night.