It is out of my house. Gone. Ripped up. I am living on subfloor. And it blows.
I turned the living and dining rooms upside down this weekend. It was like I was packing to move, except the only thing leaving is the cat pee. All my pictures, cds, videos, clutter, plants, more clutter and books got put into boxes and carted to the basement (also slightly cat-peey) or the guest bedrooms. Some furniture got moved out, some just got realigned. The end result is that I feel like I'm living in someone else's house.
Its so weird. Downstairs is empty, and sounds hollow when I talk. There is nothing left down there that screams "Susan!!!". It could be anyone's house. Anyone's beat up couch. It is quite disconcerting. It feels sad somehow - like I'm leaving. But I'm not. I don't know why the empty floor is freaking me out so much. I tried to sit and watch tv for a little bit, but I couldn't. The tv is in the middle of the room. The lights are in weird spots and the echo is awful. I just don't want to be in there.
It might be extra disconcerting because this process is going to begin soon at my dad's house. The carpets have to come up, the furniture has to be given away, my first car is going to get hauled away to the car squasher and my pink, horrific childhood room is going to get painted beige.
My installer is coming next week (please, please, please let him not postpone my job) to put in hardwood (smirk) floors. Just in case you are curious, I'm going with carbonized bamboo. Its sustainable wood (snort. giggle.) and really, the only reason I even bothered to mention it was so I could make that bad wood joke. I'm clearly running out of material.