Some of you are probably wondering what the heck is the big deal. Well, I want to inform everybody that it's a very big deal when you are 83 years old and have enough collectibles, dust catchers of assorted vintages, and just plain junk to fill a craft shop.
First came the hard part of selecting a carpet in my chosen color and within my limited budget. That out of the way, on a daily basis, I started clearing out the movable stuff . As my living room and front bedroom became more visible, my kitchen and bathrooms became less so. Junk piled up in all of the rooms that were not going to be carpeted. Even the laundry room didn't escape my growing piles of books, papers and nick-knacks.
My aching back and left knee cursed my efforts as I slogged doggedly on limping from room to room carrying what I could manage. Each night found me practically crawling to the bottle of Excedrin Extra Strength for my nightly fix.
By this time I realized that I had lost my head years ago when I went on a cottage buying binge. And where did all of those books come from? And why did I compound my foolish obsession of years past by starting this insane project?
Nonetheless, I soldiered on until the morning when four sturdy guys arrived at my doorstep to begin the transformation process. Oh the stress of watching them carry my furniture out to the back patio was too much to bear. "Please don't scratch it, please don't drop it, please be careful", I thought. I had the good sense to keep these "please" pleas to myself, but I am sure my body language spoke volumes.
Communication was almost impossible. Their English was minimal and their accent maximum. With my hearing loss, we didn't understand each other at all. The result was that they didn't put things where I wanted them and I had to gesture to show them what I wanted. I would say, "Move it to the right about four inches and they would smile and move it to the left. My NO NO NO's finally got through to them and when I pointed the other direction they smilingly moved it so fast that they went beyond where I wanted them to stop. Loud and frantic WHOA's finally got their attention and my furniture ended up somewhere in the general area that I wanted it to be.
I had one day between the day they did the living/dining room, hall and front bedroom before they were to come back to finish my bedroom and den. I spent all of that day schlepping the little cottages back to their home in the finished room. By this time I was wondering if I was going to live long enough to enjoy the new look. Two pain pills and a sleeping tablet prepared me for the last day.
Saturday, after they touched up a few scrapes on some pieces, we wished each other a final, if not fond, farewell .
After a couple of hours letting my Excedrin work it's magic I started toting my stuff back to where it belonged. I have a jewel box that has a revolving gizmo in the top with hooks to hang my chains on. When I picked up the box I noticed that several hooks were empty. Because I have more chains than hooks this was most unusual. Upon investigation I discovered that my two most expensive gold chains were missing. This caused for a further search to see what else was missing. So far I have discovered that three pendants, cameo earrings, and a box of broken jewelery waiting to be repaired has joined the items that are no longer in my possession.
Here's the real mystery: My two digital hearing aids are missing. Why in the world would someone steal hearing aids? Maybe one of the guys was as deaf as I am and needed them. (That would explain the communication problem.) Or maybe he had a relative who could use the help. Or maybe he knew that they cost $2,000 each.
I have not used a hearing aid since getting my cochlear implant so this loss is not as hard for me to bear as a piece of jewelery my son gave me. I find that the theft of hearing aids to be very hard to explain.
I had to call the dealer with my complaint this morning. I really hated doing that, wimp that I am. Because I didn't want to get anyone in trouble until I was absolutely sure that the jewelry left in the pocket of one of the helpers, I spent this whole day searching my entire house to make doubly sure that, in a fit of dementia, I hadn't moved them myself. I am waiting for his return call.
So, was it worth it? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Never, never, never.