Today is one big day, alright. Firstly, the basement will be officially done… at least until we come up with the time and materials to really finish it. But it will seem pretty done. To us. And to our visitors. Who after eight years of hearing us talk about our small, cramped and painfully, soon to be eating our young as well as each other, inadequate cozy, little cottage house expected to be camping out on a plank floor in front of the pot-bellied stove, in our one room Rocky Mountain cabin.

OK, so they may have been close in their guess-timation of our lives here, but not anymore. The four of them, and their sudo-Uncle Andy, will get to inhabit the entire, now nearly finished, root-cellar basement. Which, let me tell you, now with flooring installed (almostly completely), does not feel like a root-cellar basement. Gulldurnit, it feels like a real part of the house, suitable for human children inhabitation and human adult inhabitation, alike.

So, it will be complete. But let it not go unsaid, for something like this I will continue to ensure gets said- repeatedly… over and over and over again, never ever to be forgotten… I will be completing this seemingly endless project myself.

Secondly, Filipes is taking the small people camping. With a neighbor and his own small people. In our new-to-us tent trailer. They will also be taking a tent. For neighbor. I believe Filipes will be manning the tent trailer and five, chile-weinie-marshmallow-chocolate-potato chip encrusted small people, himself, from his perch upon the convertible dining table/twin bed. Oh, God. I’m really sorry I will not be there…

NOT!

This will be a glorious time. Just me.

Just me and a pile of laminate. And the table and chop saws. And hopefully all of my fingers.

The dark imaginings have begun to take shape, seeping insidiously inside my squirrelly, compulsively over active little brain ever-cautious mind. I picture this night, the first alone in so many, many years… picture my peaceful WHOLE EVENING/NITE/MORNING ALONE ruined by the fact that a sawblade has chopped off most of the fingers of my right hand, save for my stubby, little thumb. And my WHOLE EVENING/NITE/MORNING ALONE is spent first, in shock; followed by bleeding to death, my life slowly draining from four dull-blade ravaged stumps, unable to get to the phone due to aforementioned shock; concluding with my perish-ment in the root-cellar new, clean and recently floored, oh-so-liveable downstairs space.

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