it's all good

Dusty and tired.
But very, very happy. I can't express how much I've enjoyed watching parts of our house get ripped to pieces this week. Really, it couldn't have happened to a nicer kitchen.

It's only been a week but this whole process has, so far, been fabulous. Really, fabulous. I'm not just throwing around gratuitous superlatives here.

I love the problem-solving required when packing up half one's house and storing all that crap stuff in the other half in a way which defines items into 'deep' and 'shallow' storage, which allows a family of 3 (and a bit, and a bull terrier and 2 cats) to live in relative comfort and ease, which is still vaguely aesthetically pleasing and, most of all, safe from the rambling thuggery of an inquisitive nearly two and a half year old.
It's allowed me to flex an organisational muscle I've not exercised to this extent for some time now.

I love the transience of a make-shift kitchen (though admittedly this could start losing it's appeal), the change of perspective when one's sofa is moved to a corner you'd never usually sit in, the discovery that the second bathroom which was never more than a spare loo and a storage space actually boasts a wicked shower, the oddity of waking in the night and hearing the fridge hum and click in the lounge room.
It's reminded me of how fun it was to rearrange my bedroom on a whim when in high school, that interesting feeling of going to sleep with all your familiar possessions in unfamiliar places, and waking up to a seemingly new world.

I love watching the building progress each day, seeing the plans we've been hatching for 6 years come to fruition, love the translation of those plans to a physical actuality.
It makes me wonder if we'll function a bit differentally as a family in this new space. I know we won't change as people - obviously not - but this new, improved living space has to affect the flow of our days, and I'm excited about that.

I love sharing a project like this with my man. Making practical and aesthetic decisions together; the thrill of discovering how often we think alike, the shock when realising sometimes we really, really don't.
It forces us to communicate in quite a unique way, to express serious differences of opinion with no hostility, to argue for, or against, the other's opinion without insulting their taste or logic, and to relearn those old relationship favourites: how to pick your battles, when to walk away, at which point to play your trump cards. It's fun.

It's all fun, and the real fun, the enjoyment of the final product, is still to come.