Living with a mess

Under construction

Anyone who knows me is well aware that I hate messes. Even messes that are just means to improve a current debacle or prevent any future catastrophes are not really appreciated. So it wasn't any big surprise  when I received notice that scaffolding would soon be erected around the front of my home, then windows and doors cut out in order to insert new ones, I wasn't full of glee. It wasn't new windows I imagined but sprays of dust, beaten-up drywall and chipped paint.

The project is occurring throughout the whole neighborhood to correct windows that have a tendency to leak. The home owners association is leading this project. My parents assured me this would not only fix a potential problem but add value to my house. I still wasn't entirely sold. 

So Monday, the scaffolding appeared. The poles are shellacked with splatters of dried mud and rough wood boards appear haphazardly laid across them at all angles. Looking at this scene of crazed geometry  from the driveway, I am convinced it takes a brave sort of person to move around on this apparatus. Indeed, the workers are brave. Not only to ascend to great heights to get work done but also to put up with me. 

The first day, I arrived home from work and immediately pulled out of the Libman floor sweeper to cleanup any potential debris littering the floor. Plus, each day I park my car in the garage and survey the area for any tell-tale signs of trash that escaped everyone else's attention. 

To be honest though, the project is going well. Except for a chunk of drywall on a window sill that was torn out by a wayward nail, there hasn't been much for me to stew about.

So I might be softening my whole attitude towards this current mess outside my windows and balcony doors. It doesn't hurt that the workers seem to appreciate my strong value of mess-free zones. Listening to a message this evening from the supervisor about a number of items he needed to know about, he concluded by saying that not only does my home have the best view in the neighborhood but it also features the best interior decoration.

Update:  I simply could not take the sight of that ragged, ripped piece of drywall on the window sill. It was like a hang nail that you just can't stop biting. But rather than bite my nails, I uncovered a small tub of spackel in my garage, mixed in a table spoon of water, and using a paint scraper, smoothed the white paste over the punctured spot. It took a couple of globs of paste but the beastly site is no more! One less mess to deal with!