Last night I lay asleep dreaming again, dreams of which I remember little, though houses were a feature. I often dream of houses. Sometimes elegant houses, sometimes total dumps. Used to keep a dream journal but that was a long time ago. At least I didn't have frightening dreams which can happen. Dreams from which I awaken breathing hard, trrnpmbling, even weeping. Houses are much better to dream about.
The plan goes something like this. On Monday, the cabinets arrive, the contractor comes to remove the old cabinets and start on the floor. Also on Monday the stove guy comes to see if our flue can be converted. Husband is confident that it can, but I'll believe it when I see it. Today I need to do some more work on the chimney mosaic but can't go to the top yet until the stove man comes and says yeah or nay to converting the flue and I know what size it will be. As with all construction projects I cannot imagine that the plan will fall into place with perfection, but I'm a pessimist and thus is not my first rodeo working on this old house. I am trying to be optimistic, but very leery of what will be revealed behind those old cabinets, it could be scary. I hope it won't be cost as we are running dangerously close to budget already. The best laid plans and all of that comes too quickly to mind. But tally ho, forward into the breech, there's no turning back now.