Get a job

The house is falling apart faster than I am (so far). As the repair of back porches continues, more and more problems are uncovered on a daily basis. The latest is the discovery that one corner-- the upper column and surrounding boards on the second-story porch-- is once-wood-now-sponge filled with wood-eating little white worms. (Now I know the source of that munching in my dreams. All this time I was blaming my husband.)

Jon, the head guy, assures me that all worms have gone (or will soon go) to the dump. I thought termites were the wood eaters... and maybe those beetle thingies. I didn't know about the beaver-related maggots. Bugs. You gotta respect them. I mean, talk about adaptability.

The renovation job has grown from a ten-day deal to a god-only-knows deal. No matter how much I like and trust these guys (who are doing a stellar job), I will always recall November of '07 as the time our $$ are slid away into two old houses almost as fast as they dd in the stock market. I am becoming my father-- a miserable creature worrying about outliving my means. Perhaps, when all resources have been depleted, I can commit a small crime and join the ranks of prisoners being housed and fed by The Man... or, perhaps, I should FIND A JOB!