So it looked like I last checked in July 23rd. Had been threatened in my own kitchen by a Sub Zero delivery guy, was celebrating the mad power of my pool heat pump, was crowing about my sink choices and expressing disgust over fuckin' ceramic countertops.

The fridge is a goddamn portal to Narnia but the faces aren't on it yet because we have other shit to deal with

My Weasel contractor charged me two man-hours to move the heat pump 10 feet and when I called him on it he said "but see I was doing you a favor working when I could have been working for other people" (that makes it 'not a favor' and you weren't, you were on your way from an estate sale where you overpaid for a Breitling chronograph, you brought it by to ask me about it). He also put four brand new doors on a refrigerator water line, perforating it and soaking the doors. He also broke the secret bookcase. Long story short I ended up auditing his hours and docking him like $1800 (plus the doors) because he'd been padding his invoices with an hour or more every day (at a house where the lockbox talks to the Internet, where his comings and goings are recorded on eight cameras). He acted cool about it until he apparently consulted a lawyer and learned that cashing the check implies acceptance of contract at which point he legit confronted me on the street.

The sink isn't in but the Seattle Times ran a "style" article telling everyone they should have sunken living rooms now when fuckin' six months ago a designer was beating me up for my sunken living room. I ADDED ANOTHER STAIR BITCH

I finally today got my wife to go along with negresco granite in no small part by showing her pictures of negresco granite in house books from the 70s

Beyond that, fuck

So the house was cursed. We've been over that. Dog skeleton in the service pit, lake under the dining room, re-inter Bandit under daffodils. I didn't mention at the time that I swear I saw Old Man Hoggson out the corner of my eye the day after I did the memorial. But I did. Standing in the driveway, just over my shoulder, while I was sweeping the garage. Pareidolia is a hell of a drug.

But the house hasn't been cursed since.

I have... a gawping amount of hardwood going in. My hardwood guy is like a monk, I love him. His work is incredible and his price came in at 1/4th the high bid. Whenever I say "damn, dude, this is incredible" he goes "well, it turns out there's one thing I'm good at and it's nice that I enjoy it." And I get there to do some work and I see this

And I look closer

And I ask my hardwood monk

And he says

"yeah! Strangest thing - that was under the flooring in the closet. And those look like your doors - I think that was taken in this room? Do you know who those people are?"

And I am not a religious man but I am a superstitious man and if I were a ghost? I could come up with dumber ways to convey approval.

_____________________________________________

There was a moment about two weeks ago when I realized we were going to make it. There's been enough paint, there's been enough drywall, there's been enough forward progress that the end is in sight. The day before that I'd crossed a threshold - there wasn't anything I needed to do that was holding others back. As far as the main dwelling is concerned, it's in the hands of others.

We're going to make it.

That prompted me to touch base with the electricians who worked with my electrician who now works for the Port. Turns out they formed a new company. Named after the install sticker they saw on the electrical panels they pulled out of my saunacloset.

Yeah. My electricians named themselves after my house.

They un-fucked some stuff that was kinda fucked. I asked them about the garage, which was a mess. They said "yeah we could sort that out but honestly you're better off starting over" so I spent a week pulling down fixtures, getting crud out of the rafters, confirming wiring and putting up new LEDs. Fortunately I'd bought in bulk when Costco was blowing out Feit fixtures because I had twenty five four-foot strips and I used them all. I also sealed up the 50-year-old foil-backed rockwool. 250' of foil tape and 100' of 12" foil roll vanished into that space like throwing it down a well. But look at this shit

I showed that to a friend and he said "looks like Yavin Four" and I wasn't enough of a dork to know what he was talking about in the moment, perhaps because I had been going so hard for so long that when I finished I had just enough time to take a shower and pick up my kid and drive to Portland and I legit forgot my luggage. There were three switches on one side, there were three two-way switches on the other side, and over the years enough fluorescents burnt out and enough lamps were added and enough chaos ensued that I have wires that just sort of stop. But now I have three bays and I can make it all work with Caseta and there's a switch with bare wire in the middle and fuck you I'ma put a disco ball on it. And probably up the size of the speakers from what I intended. Because that there is a goddamn dance pavilion that empties out onto a driveway that's even bigger and if it were a club it would have a capacity well over 250 people and I own a teenager.

This is the Bond VIllain Aquarium.

It comes in at 280 gallons. I realized that I couldn't really do the aquarium any cheaper than the big mammer jammer but I also realized that most of my fear of the cost came from the stand and I realized that it's just water and goddamn it I own Solidworks

So I'ma weld that up and order an aquarium and put in a sink and a shower filler and I will have water and a drain right there and can automate THE SHIT out of it and the floor has been reinforced to hold up a goddamn Honda Prelude and if I make the stand out of what I'm most comfortable making the stand out of the stand itself will support an M48 Patton tank before appreciable deformation so we're good and it'll cost me like $300 in metal and goddamn it I'm still a better welder than anyone I know and I haven't struck an arc since 2014.

My wife bought "the family" a Cricut. I had her make me Greek eyes for the pool skimmer. Her name is Argo.