now we are 35

I was cranky for so many hours these past two weeks that I was worried I wouldn't be able to shut it off. I was a hard ass. I gave the contractor my birthday deadline a week ago and I
swear that asshole didn't take me seriously. So I ramped up the crazy bitchtastic rampages each
day and had some small results. They still didn't truly finish the small things I asked for, but I gave up and kicked them out. They had to work two hours on the morning of my birthday (yesterday) and then I said goodbye to Second in Command and Inconsistent Tile Guy for the last time. First in Command, the Actual Contractor, hadn't shown his face around here in days, ever since I started my mean, scary text messages.

At one point, friends, that man texted back… wait for it… "RELAX." Yes. And as I said on Twitter, the result was about what you'd expect, about the same as when someone said that when I was infertile. I never heard back from him after I responded, "I WILL NOT RELAX. I am staring at a piece of paper written by you on which you estimated this job will take 5-6 days. It has now been more than 10 times that."

So all that's left is to finish all the details, clean up, move the children back into their own rooms, and write diatribes about him for every neighborhood listserv known to man. Whew!

I was able to shut off the crazy, luckily. Moments after they left, I was bustling kiddo into his shoes and out the door. Remember how I hated summer and someone nicely commented that there was so much to do in NYC and I shouldn't be bored, etc. That stuck in my head for every stinking hour of the month of my break I was stuck in my house with those asshole contractors who should have finished before my time with my kid. I busted out of this house gleefully and headed for the Aquarium and the beach and the rides at Coney Island. We had a wonderful time – I would amend it only by adding way more beach time for kiddo next time, who appears to be nothing like either me or Wes when it comes to our deep hatred of sand.

Then I reined in my anxiety enough to leave Beckett with my mother-in-law and go have wine and Tasti-D-Lite with my husband. A most satisfactory 35th, if I do say so.

BlogHer is in two weeks and other than that, August is a delightfully open book. Other than partial days home as much as possible for potty training (PROGRESS has been made, people!), I plan to get us out there doing stuff. Nothing like weeks stuck inside to make you grateful for your city.