Champagne and Chocolate

It’s two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon and I am sitting on the deck drinking champagne and eating chocolate. Lest you think I am a problem in progress, I should tell you that this is highly unusual behavior (the champagne, but not the chocolate), and I am actually a little bit pleased with myself. What’s the occasion? Nothing, except that it’s a brilliantly sunny and warm day in mid-March, and I am tired of calculating lengths of pipe and square footage of insulation. I am tired of wondering what to do with the gigantic boulder that is perched in loose dirt above our frontdoor entryway, and tired of worrying about how we are going to place our SIP walls on the second floor.

I’ve been completely engaged in this project, but today I thought it would be a day off, and then we ended up spending two hours at a jobsite watching burly construction workers put up a SIP roof, and then Rebecca wanted me to help her unload PVC pipes from the roof of the van. My heels suddenly dug into the ground, entirely of their own accord. It’s as if that part of me that is more than a project manager, more than a laborer, more than a problem solving brain, finally fought its way to the surface and said Stop! No more house talk! Remember ME?

So that’s why I politely declined her request to unload PVC, came home to make a big salad with feta and pasta, and discovered the corked half bottle of champagne that has been sitting quietly in the refrigerator since Valentines Day. The cork flew off with a loud pop. Plenty of fizz left. Extra-dark chocolate has become as much of a staple as bread and apples since we started this project, so that was easy to find. And here I am, glass in hand, chocolate slowly dissolving in mouth, looking down on the town of Eldorado Springs as it comes and goes on a Saturday afternoon. Funny thing is, now that I’ve had my hour of self-indulgence, I’m feeling strangely compelled to draw a diagram of foundation wall penetrations. Or maybe I’ll just pour another glass of champagne.