You may have see this post, in which I briefly mentioned our plans to extend the house.
In case you were blissfully unaware, for well over a year now, we’ve been waiting for this damn extension to get started.
The plans for said extension went in to the Council in December 2015 and since they were given the OK we’ve had a nightmare trying to remortgage. The reason for this is that we bought our house through some bizarre equity loan scheme. It sounded like a brilliant idea at the time, but the staff working for the loan company seem to be just slightly worse than entirely incompetent.
One of them actually got quite put out because I didn’t own the email address email@example.com and as such hadn’t received their correspondence, despite their insistence. Definitely my fault, that.
The phone number they called and left messages from, when called back, actually went through to a lift somewhere in the building. It would have been fairly funny if it wasn’t so annoying.
We finally got the finance side of things signed off a few months back.
Fortunately, our builder didn’t have availability until April anyway and so when the money arrived in the account in the middle of February rather than the beginning of December as planned it didn’t actually matter too much, aside from the whole trying not to fritter away a very large sum of cash on chocolate and wine thing.
It will be a sizeable erection (if you tittered, then you’re totally in the right place) of two storeys; a beautiful new open plan living and dining room with huge bi-folding doors on to the garden, a utility room, a massive bedroom with an en suite and a nice big porch with a downstairs loo. Sweet huh?
This of course means the demolition of the existing conservatory and garage which, for some stupid reason, we said we’d do ourselves, despite neither of us having a practical bone in our bodies. Anything to save money huh? #idiots (Anyone in the market for a conservatory? PM me hun).
The build has slipped to May, and thank goodness.
This weekend, the fear has really hit me because the garage is still standing, the conservatory is still there, and yet here we are, rapidly heading towards May. Oops. Let’s hope it’s late May. Or like, Juney-May.
I recognise that doing a major build and the upheaval that comes with it is an exceptionally foolish thing to do with two young children in tow.
Sadly though, the little blighters keep growing and acquiring more and more stuff and I don’t have the energy to go all Kon Mari.
I need the space. We need the space. The kids can’t share forever. Living squeezed into one main room isn’t practical and the tidying is constant and depressing. I long for a room where I can shut the door to all the crap and crud, go into a different room, and not worry about it.
That is my version of cleaning.
The conservatory which we termed the ‘glass cathedral’ when we moved in, in which we envisaged lovely dinner parties and glorious summer evenings, is basically a dumping ground-cum-laundry that is too hot to use in the summer and freezing bloody cold in the winter.
If you’re considering a conservatory, my advice to you is to have your head checked out and spend the money on something more useful, like a life-size cutout of Chris Hemsworth.
There is going to be a lot of dust, noise and mess, for a long time; pretty much the entire summer.
I can see it now; this blinking extension is going to get going just as preschool and all the toddler groups finish and the kids at home with me all day, every day.
I have already prepared myself to repeat the mantra ‘It’s going to be great when it’s done’ over and over, rather than just wishing we’d moved instead, because let’s face it, that would hardly be painless (albeit, over more quickly and probably into a house where the kitchen isn’t falling apart).
It’s going to be great when it’s done.