Backblogged Beyond Belief, Part II
Man, have I neglected this thing. Time to get it out my system, complete with images!
New Orleans
I now have a new nickname for Cookie: Frankenbutt.
Right before I came home, he needed surgery on his other leg. According to my mom, he was hopping through the grass, when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and started whimpering. Poor pup.
Anyways, I get home to find him all fixed up...and all drugged up. Luckily for himself (and for me too) he recovered pretty quickly, gaining some of his puppy perkiness back before I left. By my last day at home, I had to keep Cookie from jumping up on my pullout bed in the trailer. Curse & a blesssing.
So yes, we were still living in the trailer, as the contractors were still working on the house. My mom had been planning to have moved back in the house before I arrived, but it didn't phase me; I honestly expected to spend most of my time in the trailer with a recovereing pooch. However, I was REALLY anxious to get us moved in as quickly as possible, so most of my time at home was spent installing doorknobs and switchplates and electrical socket faceplates.
Speaking of electrical sockets (ooh, gotta love a transition like that), there was one moment when I was working on repositioning a set of light switches to fit a small switchplate. Concurrently, my mom wanted to test some new lighting fixture that had just been installed that day or something and asked why I had turned off the circuit breakers in that section of the house. I explained what I was doing with the switchplate and told her it might short out if I turned it back on immediately. She started making a big deal about it, so yada yada yada, I warned her not to fool with that particular bank of switches and flipped the breaker. Don't worry, nothing happened...right then. However, she apparently forgot about my warning and I saw this HUGE spark shoot out of that light switch. Ah, schadenfreude, how you entertain me.
So as you can see, it's really starting to come together. In fact, I was successfully able to get my room into a finished state:
Okay, so the closet doors have yet to be hung. Details, folks. :P
Lastly, I want to mention my livestrong wristband. You might be thinking, what the hell does that have to do with your house? Well, my mom and I bought ours at the same time, a couple months before Katrina. Afterwards when we were in Houston, I remember her discussing our recovery plans and saying, "Gives new meaning to these wristbands, huh?"
Since then, I have vowed to keep wearing it, regardless of the fad and/or if it's the 'in' thing to do, until we can comfortably move back into the house. The day I hang my wristband on my room's doorknob will be the day our house becomes a home again.
New Orleans
I now have a new nickname for Cookie: Frankenbutt.
Right before I came home, he needed surgery on his other leg. According to my mom, he was hopping through the grass, when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and started whimpering. Poor pup.
Anyways, I get home to find him all fixed up...and all drugged up. Luckily for himself (and for me too) he recovered pretty quickly, gaining some of his puppy perkiness back before I left. By my last day at home, I had to keep Cookie from jumping up on my pullout bed in the trailer. Curse & a blesssing.
So yes, we were still living in the trailer, as the contractors were still working on the house. My mom had been planning to have moved back in the house before I arrived, but it didn't phase me; I honestly expected to spend most of my time in the trailer with a recovereing pooch. However, I was REALLY anxious to get us moved in as quickly as possible, so most of my time at home was spent installing doorknobs and switchplates and electrical socket faceplates.
Speaking of electrical sockets (ooh, gotta love a transition like that), there was one moment when I was working on repositioning a set of light switches to fit a small switchplate. Concurrently, my mom wanted to test some new lighting fixture that had just been installed that day or something and asked why I had turned off the circuit breakers in that section of the house. I explained what I was doing with the switchplate and told her it might short out if I turned it back on immediately. She started making a big deal about it, so yada yada yada, I warned her not to fool with that particular bank of switches and flipped the breaker. Don't worry, nothing happened...right then. However, she apparently forgot about my warning and I saw this HUGE spark shoot out of that light switch. Ah, schadenfreude, how you entertain me.
So as you can see, it's really starting to come together. In fact, I was successfully able to get my room into a finished state:
Okay, so the closet doors have yet to be hung. Details, folks. :P
Lastly, I want to mention my livestrong wristband. You might be thinking, what the hell does that have to do with your house? Well, my mom and I bought ours at the same time, a couple months before Katrina. Afterwards when we were in Houston, I remember her discussing our recovery plans and saying, "Gives new meaning to these wristbands, huh?"
Since then, I have vowed to keep wearing it, regardless of the fad and/or if it's the 'in' thing to do, until we can comfortably move back into the house. The day I hang my wristband on my room's doorknob will be the day our house becomes a home again.