We're on stage three of the renovation—or is stage seven. I've lost count. And the floor installers have begun today by hammering and sawing and generally making so much noise in the room above me that I'm sure they are pounding directly on my skull. This very bad cold I have is in stage three as well, or whatever, and has moved into my head so that my ears are stopped up, and everything sounds like I'm hearing it through a tunnel. So, a giant hammer is pounding its way through a giant tunnel and landing on my head.
I have arranged to board poor Tiger beginning Friday because we'll be out of town for several days, and he can't be here once they start all the sanding and staining and finishing, but given the trauma of today, which will continue straight through until the end of tomorrow, I'm thinking about crating the little guy and dropping him off as soon as possible. Since I can't be boarded, I guess I'll go camp out at a coffee shop for a couple of days. I have an article to write and a book to read and a 500 Words story brewing. So, stop by if you're in the neighborhood, but don't mind the pile of used tissues that will be surrounding my chair. And if I accidentally sneeze in your direction, pretend you don't notice. I'm having a rough day.