POINT OF NO RETURN----MY RENO MEMO

7/23/2011

So damn tired…holding the glass filled by Lorna with Naked Wine, I thought I could really use alcohol to get myself relaxed a bit. For 3 months, I had been so tensed preparing this damn reno stuff. Today, I could finally take a break.

Since when had I not cared for catching up with “fashion” anymore? I  kind of settled down whatever the life put me there…going to work, cooking, doing the chores, tutoring kids… at least, I was contented with all these till one Sunday this February, or March. That day, after grocery shopping, on the impulse, we went up to Mountain to see some open houses…things started change…first, we commented on the house we just visited; then, we talked about the possibility to buy such houses; we found the dilemma we were in to buy house; we figured out the solution to dilemma. It’s not something complicated: to buy a new home, to sell our house first.  Here we go! We ended up getting  trapped in preparing for home sale---some doomed renovation that they usually called “divorce dust!” oh, yeah, believe me, this “ reno entrapping”, so vicious, helplessly endless that almost cost all bliss in our 15-year  marriage that QM and I had been so proud of…understanding, caring, support, patience… with our budget far overly spent, our energy consumed to none, our deadline put off over and over again,  our tolerance, not sure to reno, or to each other, had been tested, challenged and eventually worn out. we could not remember who started barking to the other, (yeah, most likely, it’s me!) and how many times we failed to get our tantrums under control. There were a couple of times, I was like a loose cannon, driven by fatigue and frustration, let out all my distress onto the boys by throwing out plate at hand. Last week, when I was scraping the tile floor with my stomach howling and knees busting painfully, I was smacked by the solid-wood chair I dangerously put on dining table right on my head, twice.. Collapsed at the corner of kitchen nook, I broke down and cried silently---not for the pain but for not knowing when to end this exhausting “homework”.   That moment, I knew I had stretched myself to where I could not bear anymore. I got fed up and had to end this.

 

Poor QM! Nobody knew better than I that he had gone through much harder, if not worse predicament than I. besides his own physical limits, he had of course taken on most “job” as the only “handy man” in the house. So far, I was glad I made at least one sensible decision---I had been very adamant about the stairwell flooring and roofing, which I thought would have crashed his health if I had wanted to save bucks from that two jars. Still, mounting the tile backsplash, all new light and vent fixtures, door knobs, and switch gears took not only time  to finish. there were a lot like painting, wall mending, gardening and washing the whole house that were much easier said than done! While providing these services, he had to suck up to all picky  complaints, unapproval and sourness thrown by his high-maintenance wife. During this period, like highly inflammable toxic chemical agent, my temper was so capriciously bad that I  targeted and attacked QM whenever frustrations set me off. I detested a bitch but I admitted these days I were a yelping bitch!

Last Sunday, when Duwei and Carrey came by to see how we were doing, I could barely smile at them. Whatever Duwei said,  the words became non-sense acoustic noises flowing by my ears, not arousing any response. With 13 hour on-clock non-stop work,  I found myself in quite a subdued state close to trance that I suspect I lose the ability to digest, understand and communicate any language . All my mind stuck to nothing but only those stains on the wall, the greasy spots on the stove or any suspicious trace s on the toilet lid. Finally, bored by his own monologue, Duwei shook his head and decided to take a leave. When we walked them to the door, he looked at me, deeply concerned, he said, “you really need TLC-tender love and care!” “Fuck TLC” I murmured to myself, “fuck all this reno!”

 

That night in bed, tossing and turning, though tired, I could not fell asleep. Like an old beat-up macho,   screws all fallen apart,  I felt all my joints hurt like hell. Eyes wide-opened, temple throbbed the whole night,  I decided enough was enough.

 

The following week we noticeably slowed down, not on purpose,  but by exhaustion. We contacted a realtor who let us “borrow” his services while to be paid the minimum. That’s what QM came up with through a online forum. He thought he had put in so much into this reno and didn’t want anybody to loot our chips without paying any efforts. I barely agree to this decision.  We didn’t have any experiences selling anything big, let alone a house. We lack of expertise and resources too. However, I barely had any energy left to disagree him. Whatever needed to be done to put this all to end, I would leave it that way, by all means.

When our V# was finally posted on website on Saturday, I  accepted Lorna’s invitation to have BBQ in her house.

For more than 100 days in a row, the first time, I heard myself laughing and I was in a mood for a drink. I felt so damn good that I almost drenched the whole bottle of Naked. That night when we got home, I didn’t strip myself to get naked for a good sex.  The second I hit the sack, I passed out instantly  and had a really quality sleep that I hadn’t had for a good 3 months.