Warning: I’m gonna quote Yeats in this one
It may appear that things have been quiet on this end, but they have not. We spent a long weekend in Taos and Santa Fe and then work and house took over as soon as the plane landed Monday night. It’s been one of those weeks. The only appealing activity is a glass of wine and back-to-back episodes of Modern Family. You know, mind-numbing drink and above-average comedy.
Not to be overly dramatic but (Yeats, comin’ at ya) it appears that things, truly do, fall apart. It would be unfair to go into details, and they’re not necessary anyways, but we’ve had a few issues with the build combined with irrational expectations on the job front and you’ve got a big ‘ol pile of frustration. The build itself has gone in lightning speed. The house is dried in meaning all of the siding has been installed, windows and exterior doors in place, framing is done, house has electricity, HVAC, etc. However, even though the build itself started and neared finish in under two months, it’s this monster project we’ve lived with for over two years. To come this close to the end and hit some roadblocks leaves me curled in a ball, sucking my thumb. We are so ready to be done. And that is a gross understatement.
Growing up, we spent our summers outside of Taos in the small community of Arroyo Seco, near the ski valley. I have lots of fuzzy, golden memories of that place. Lots. I haven’t been back in a long time. Turns out, the smell of sage, burning pinon, and cold dry air make me woozy. The sight of adobe with a chili ristra hanging from the porch? Oh lord – forget about it. So this week I’ve been browsing through pictures from last weekend, wishing I were still sitting by a kiva fireplace, coffee in hand, the blue mountains standing beyond, like they always have. Looking just the same as they do in my earliest memories.