Last week manfriend went and got all the bricks and rods for the construction of his apartment.
Did you hear a cackling laugh in the distance? It was me.
His father had gifted him with the bricks and the rods several months ago but he only felt the urge to get them to site this week because of the higher local tax (12% – versus the 7% we had been paying) that has been institutionalised this month.
Getting them here before the higher tax was applied meant a lot more materials. I could get into the political details of this but I don’t want to splatter my blog with all the disappointment and anger I feel at all the politics involved. And there are A LOT of politics involved.
Anyway, in one day of work this happened:
And more even! All the walls around the apartment are basically blocked. Guys, I look up and there ARE WALLS. It’s like YAAAAAAY.
And then I have to say, construction is heavily stressing.
I am equally ecstatic and exhausted. Manfriend has the same feelings but tripled because he has been working ten hours up there and then he is running his production during the week too. We worked together eight years before we started dating and we work together now, so we know when it’s best to back off from each other’s faces before we blow up and we’ve done that this weekend. It’s been a great choice because then we can go to bed in harmony and peace.
And even then yesterday I blew up like a C4.
I was in charge of packaging and the guys (I guess you could call them employees, thought they are more like family who help us) would not leave me alone. It was one of those days when they had jokes for every single thing happening and all the humor had been sucked out of me when I had to wake up at five fifteen AM. I’m also PMSing. Manfriend came in and added himself to the jokes and whoa. The kids almost died when I walked out on them and I think manfriend still has no idea why I got so furious.
To be honest, I was immediately humiliated by my own rage. I was trembling with anger but it was more because it took me some time to figure out how to calm myself down than how angry I was. I just had to detonate at some point because on a scale of one to ten my stress level is sixty seven.
I mean, I just drank a root beer. That’s my equivalent to doing a strong drug. Have you read the ingredients in that thing? I think ingesting Sodium Benzoate and Caramel Color – a proven carcinogen – is decently hardcore for a mom who can’t actually get high on anything else (not that I voluntarily would).
In other notes: manfriend went for really big windows and changed the position of the living room, the receiving area and the entrance and he worked an extra foot of space in the balcony. Like a boss.
Have a great day!