We're in desperately temporary housing: an extended-stay hotel, which is rather an oxymoron, but we'll deal with it. In the meantime, I just try to stay sane. The septic is dug awaiting inspections and corrections. Honestly, I thought digging trenches would be the equivalent of a diner scrambling eggs ~ you just can't get them wrong and it should be a safe order. An engineer has corrected that grossly inaccurate assumption. I'll stick with eggs.
Also doors are arriving at an alarmingly slow rate, but should be here by the weekend. That will be a nice change from various baracades placed at openings. But other things are chugging along: handmade, homemade trim and base made from the leftover Doug Fir planks are making their debut 'round windows. Walls are being painted in colors most everyone is enjoying. This is all good.
Not much knitting or painting or drawing has been going on. Too much craziness. My Inner Bohemian Artist is languishing ~ it is a condition I mean to remedy as soon as possible. Must find the sketch pad and pastels! Code Blue! Code Blue!