I Need a Step Stool...Again!

 Does anybody else require a stepstool to climb onto their bed, or is that just me?

The older I've gotten, the higher the bed. What is up with that?

Kids' beds are close to the ground, presumably to cushion any fall or wayward sleepwalking incident that might occur in the wee hours. Other than my brother's childhood bunk beds, I never remember having to jump out of bed and land on two feet with the grace of a gymnastic dismount. But our current bed is so far off the ground, I worry that one roll in the wrong direction could cause catastrophic hip dysplasia. 

Beds have gotten bigger, heavier, and most definitely, higher off the ground.

When we first discussed our current condo refresh, our bedroom was at the centre of our plans. We wanted to make the space more comfortable and definitely homier. At the core of our discussions was the bed. We knew that we needed a new mattress. Ours had a divot in it so deep that we'd meet in the middle of the bed every morning at four. Before we even started to design a new bedroom space, we went mattress shopping. This kind of purchase is awkward at the best of times but in the middle of a global pandemic, it is downright bizarre. We made our way over to Sleep Country because I refused to purchase a mattress on the internet. If that renders me ancient, I will take the hit. I simply could not imagine not trying it out before buying. So there we were, masked at Sleep Country, given our own personal pandemic-friendly pillows, test-driving every mattress in the store. (If your mind is wandering into lurid places right now, just stop. We simulated sleep and nothing else. My God, you people are incredibly base.) 

Mattress chosen, we made arrangements for delivery long before we knew what would be happening with the bedroom redo. And the truth is, we are very happy with it. It is incredibly comfortable and most importantly, it is devoid of divots. But, in our old bed frame, sitting atop of our old and still very serviceable boxspring, it is at least a couple of centimetres higher off the ground. For the normal-sized amongst you, that probably doesn't sound like a huge deal, but for someone who needs every single centimetre to survive comfortably in the world, this raising of the bed is massive. Since we have been confined to the two bedrooms over the last couple of weeks while the painter and contractor have been doing their thing in the main living quarters, I have become acutely aware of how fricking high off the ground our bed is and have taken to using a stepstool to climb aboard. (We don't have other sitting places in our bedroom.) The height always seems worse on the days when my workouts consist of running the stairs in our building. Yes, I am that idiot in the stairwell who is running up and down the fire stairs several times a week to maintain my sanity level. Everybody needs new routines and hobbies right now, right? Well, when my legs are jello-ed from the stairs, climbing onto a bed on stilts is like trying to climb Everest with lo-mein legs. 

A new bed frame is on order but it probably won't be here until the end of January. The problem with refreshing your space during a pandemic is that a lot of other people had the same idea. Much of our new furniture and fixtures won't be coming until the new year. It's not really an issue. It isn't like we are entertaining or anything. But the bed? The bed matters. The bed is the oasis. I'd rather not have to scale it like Spiderman in order to get into it. 

A few photo updates. 

New Wall Colour

No more wasps in the loo

My Bar Mitzvah Renovation

 I started this blog almost thirteen years ago to the day. 

In 2007, while we were still residing in the North Jewish Ghetto, we decided to embark upon a major home renovation that would upend our lives for about two months. While the kitchen was being torn out, walls removed, and floors replaced, I decided to use Facebook as a way to keep my mom, who was snowbirding in Florida, updated on the progress. I would post a few pictures every day and I would add some glib story about how the mess was affecting our lives. Within days of those first posts, I began receiving comments from friends and family. People forget how much fun Facebook comments were back then. It was goofy and connective, a wee bit of fun to pass the time,  not at all like the dumpster fire it can be today. Even so, I decided to move the daily renovation posts off of Facebook and onto this space on Blogger. It offered me far more flexibility than Facebook could back then. I never foresaw using this space to brain dump other musings but that is exactly what occurred.  Over time, and long after those renovations were completed, this blog became an online journal for me. I never really cared all that much if people read it because it was a way for me to express myself, even if people didn't agree. My space, my opinions, and everybody else be damned. 

My postings here have fluctuated over these last thirteen years. I have used the space as a travel journal for a myriad of trips, a sharing area for vegetarian cooking successes and disasters, a political venting arena,  and I've even had a go at trying my hand at amateur movie critic once or twice. I have enjoyed the writing challenge and I have rarely regretted anything that I've posted. I have gone on posting binges and have also gone months into a posting desert. And...I'm good with all of it.

So, on this the Bar Mitzvah of my blog, I find it incredibly amusing that I am once again posting about a home renovation. The symmetry is painfully obvious and needn't be discussed and if I had planned it to be this way, it wouldn't have happened. 

Yes, we are doing a minor refresh of our newish space...four years after moving in...in the middle of a global pandemic. There is a lot to unpack about that sentence but suffice it to say that when we planned to finally do some upgrades to our downtown condo, we didn't anticipate the entire world shutting down because of a plague. We aren't knocking down walls or shifting living space but we are doing a full painting of the place, some upgrades to the bedroom, and a complete gutting of the powder room which I have always loathed and described as a "French provincial apiary". (The previous owners had stencilled some kind of wasps on the wall. It gave me swarming nightmares every single time I walked into it.) 

But a minor refresh is also very displacing, even at the best of times. This is especially so when you simply don't have any space to which to be displaced and you have to maintain a safe distance from all workers. (Yes, everybody is masked all the time!) We discussed the possibility of decamping to a downtown hotel but, you know...global pandemic. Our comfort level isn't quite at the "let's stay in a room where hundreds have stayed before and possibly coughed on the pillows" degree of calm. We may yet get to that place if our living and working together in a small spare bedroom surrounded by all of our dislocated artwork and the granddaughter's toys become too much of a strain on a thirty-five-year-old marriage devoid of all filters. The original plan from the contractor was for them to work on one area of the condo at a time and allow us to rotate around the space. But that idea seems to have flown out the window along with the last remnants of autumn as they clearly want to get in, finish, and get out of here as quickly as possible. 

Global pandemic!

Oh...did I mention that they have shut off the heat and hot water in our building today because they are installing a new boiler system? 

Global pandemic in a condominium.

And so, we are hunkered down together in a room with no windows, no working television, masked whenever we need the kitchen, handwashing at an accelerated rate, smelling like a gymnasium after a group of adolescent boys because we can't shower, and desperately hoping that we don't kill each other in our sleep before we have had a chance to revel in the extermination of the wasps. Like everybody else celebrating a Bar Mitzvah this year, we are doing it in a new and decidedly different way. 

Keep you all posted. In the meantime, here are some Bar Mitzvah photos.

Enlarge that last photo and check out the stinging insects.

Squirrel Haters of the World, Unite!

I have said it before and I will howl it with my last gasping breath.....

SQUIRRELS ARE THE DEMON SPAWN!!!

They aren't cute. They aren't cuddly. They are in fact a protected urban menace who have wreaked havoc and untold amounts of damage upon every neighbourhood and civic centre in the western world. We here in the Great White North live under some misguided illusion that we are under attack from Raccoon Nation; midnight bandits who selfishly help themselves to our unsecured trash cans, when in fact our vigilance is misplaced and should be directed toward the bushy-tailed rodents whose mischief runs much deeper than mere rotting garbage.

I honestly didn't think it was possible to hate the little beasts more than I already did.

Over the years, I have regaled you all with stories of the trashing of our yard, the soiling of our pool, the destruction of our tree-line, the disfigurement of our fences, the holes in our roof, the eating away of our attic insulation, the ruination of our chimneys, the Squirrel Olympics that are run across the eaves outside of our bedroom window every morning at dawn, and the piece de resistance...finally coming face to face with one of the little bastards as he taunted us from our bedroom stairs last summer.

He just sat there.

He stared at me with those beady little squirrel eyes, and while I can't be certain of it, I am pretty sure he was giggling.

Yup.

Despite all of our precautions, the little assholes had finally made their way inside the house, and were absolutely planning a total squirrel domination. We could hear them partying inside the kitchen walls and ceiling and I could swear I heard one of them say the word RAVE.

That little incident was last summer, and while the mangy creeps were humanely removed to a squirrel witness protection program, (I would have hung the little bastards from the fence as a warning to his brethren) the lasting effects of their visit wouldn't be entirely understood until yesterday.

In November I told a story in this space of the massive waterfall that flowed into my kitchen when my wonderful cleaning lady had attempted to sanitize the upstairs bathroom. We closed off the room until we could ascertain the source of the leak. Knowing that the bathroom hadn't been renovated or repaired during the lifespan of the house, we reasonably concluded that the bathtub had rusted through and would need to be either repaired or replaced. Our Trusty Contractor confirmed our suspicions, and while we were not thrilled at the prospect of a bathroom renovation, we knew that this was a "must-do" overhaul if we ever wanted to sell this dump at a future date. After much hemming and hawing, we finally embarked upon the most basic of bathroom makeovers this week.

As Trusty Contractor removed the old cast-iron tub, he discovered that it was indeed rusted completely through. He was somewhat puzzled, however. He remarked that while the rusting would indeed account for some water flowing into the kitchen, it really didn't explain the torrents. But, he has seen a lot in his career, and anything is possible.

Yesterday he had a "Come to Jesus" moment and he couldn't wait to share it with us. The pipe that serves as the water outtake from the tub, was completely severed. He couldn't believe it. It was as if somebody had deliberately cut it in half. He told us that while it was possible it occurred during the kitchen renovations eight years prior, it didn't make much sense that nobody would have noticed it. And....we told him that while the tub hadn't been used since last November, it certainly had been functional up until eighteen months ago when Younger Son and His B'shert resided here.

It was left to The Husband to solve the mystery. Could the damage have possibly been caused by a.......SQUIRREL?

You be the judge.

Notice the chew marks? Yup...those are squirrel teeth.

Well...our previously simple bathroom repair will now require us cutting open the kitchen ceiling in order to replace this pipe, re-plastering the ceiling, and repainting it as well. These f***ing animals are costing us $$$$$$ totalling more than five figures.

Still think they're cute and fuzzy?

I am at the point of surrender. They want the house, that much is certain. Ok. They can have the house.

Just leave me my dignity.