Lord, give me strength.
On Thursday, the day I truly believed this situation would magically disappear from my kitchen, I learned that the fans and the cabinet-sized dehumidifier could be in my kitchen for up to 10 days.
Meaning, six more days of living with the drone of the fans. Six more days of trying not to trip over wires as I navigate the fan-and-dehumidifier obstacle course. Six more days of keeping the air conditioning on so high that its actually cold upstairs, but still uncomfortably warm downstairs because of the heat emanating from the dehumidifier.
And it’s been confirmed that even though we’ve managed to soldier on for the past week without having to evacuate to a hotel — I dreaded the thought of having to pack up every little thing that Mike and Chris require on a day-to-day basis — it turns out now that a hotel stay is inevitably in our future. Our landlady is planning to replace the floor as soon as our walls are deemed dry. So of course we’re going to need to not be there while that work is being done.
Is it too much to hope that this hotel stay will be on a weekend, so I don’t need to worry about work? I may have to take a few days off, just to deal with this.