Life’s mysterious currents have now washed us ashore in Rose Park. This is a house that needs the touch of a master’s hand, but unfortunately I can’t play. Over the course of the next few weeks we will be gutting the kitchen and bathrooms, and putting in new ones, demolishing one wall, ripping out all existing carpet and laying new, putting in new hardwood floors, new furnace and central air, various framing and touch-up, paint, and no doubt a hundred other menial jobs. The plate is full.
We now have possession of the house, but are currently living with the in-laws while the repairs are made. We are grateful for their hospitality, and grateful for my family coming down from Idaho to lend their arms, backs, and brains to the project. Perhaps it is time to make good on a promise I made to God a year or two ago in song:
Can I be your son
and your generation?
Build me a house,
I’ll fill it with life
and cut off all bad association.
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