Catching up on things ... not, you understand, that there is much going in my life these days besides work and remodeling.

One day last week the Professor asked me why I tossed a loaf of bread at the foot of the stairs. Then he picked it up and said "Oh, and I see you opened it with your teeth." Rocky Raccoon had been here again. Then we got the windows put in and all the entry points sealed up. This morning? -- another loaf of bread halfway down the back hall. Oops, the Professor opened the kitchen windows and forgot to close them.

Earlier this week we ordered two sofas and a rug. I am cringing at the thought that they cost more than half the price of my first house. (My first house cost far less than a car does nowadays, but still, it's the principle of the thing.) I was out looking at furniture everywhere, wandered into an Ethan Allan store, and started talking to a very sharp young woman who had my likes and dislikes sized up in nothing flat. She found the fabric for the couches, she led me to the rug, she found the perfect paint for the walls, and most importantly, when I dragged the Professor into the store to see the stuff, she had brains enough to flirt with him. Ka-ching! Sale made.

The electricians and plumbers have been here all week. The plumbers have run the gas pipe for the new stove and have dug a trench halfway around the house so the kitchen sink can drain into the main sewer pipe. Now here's the interesting part: almost everyone who has worked on this house habla Espanol, but the guys digging the ditch? --- pale, freckled redheads!

I have been so impressed with the crew that has done the framing. They have a family business and they start training their sons early. All summer the carpenters brought their boys, who split their time between fishing at the dock and helping. These guys can run across a tiny board two stories in the air, and can catch pieces of wood while they're doing it. I've told them that if they ever get tired of framing, they can become a high wire act in the circus. They are so careful and protective of us, and they clean up their mess every day. I wish I could say the same about the electricians and the plumbers.

It is amazing how many decisions have to be made -- most of them on the spot with no forethought. Where do you want the switch for this light? How far back do you want us to cut this wall? Do you want a light in this closet? And on and on. But here's what happens if I'm not around to answer: they wired lights and ceiling fans on the front porch, but did not take into account where the porch swing would be. I will have to hang the swing in front of a window to keep it from hitting a ceiling fan blade. Hardly a tragedy, I know. Now we are picking outside doors, bathroom tile, and stone / brick / whatever for the chimney and hearth. No one has asked me yet what kind of knobs I want on the doors and kitchen drawers or what style of switch plates I want, but I know it's coming. I never gave most of this stuff a thought -- it's just there in the house, right? -- and about half the time when they ask me a question now I tell them I really don't care, just do what they normally do. But of course there is no "normal"; it's "lady, do you want it here or there?" I do not want it here or there, I do not want it anywhere -- no, wait, that's not right. Too many decisions have turned my brain to mush.