Fixing and changing and fixing some more

Before embarking on this little adventure, I fancied myself a veteran of home renovations. Over the course of five years, Erik and I did everything to our house from minor work (painting) to major work (ripping out the kitchen and starting fresh). There wasn't a room in our house that we didn't tackle.  It was dirty, disruptive, and oh-so-satisfying when it was done.

But I always had a place to hide. Either in another room, or, if things got really messy, at my parents' place.  While the destruction was at its worst, I never had to be in the middle of it if I didn't want to.

And then: Papillon.

Amy: We are fixing the electrical system/plumbing/lights/magic fairies living under the floorboards.  I'll just go sit in the salon.

 

Hmm.  Occupied.  Well, maybe I'll get myself a drink.

Right.  The fridge is buried. Then I'll just heat up a cup of tea on the... oh.

 Okay, no drink.  Why don't I go sit in the cockpit.

Anywhere down below?

Oh.  There isn't even a floor anymore.  Well, nuts.

Yep.  Nowhere to hide.  At all.  My stress levels were so high I actually had a measurable blood pressure for a few days.  As a side note, everything you see in these photos is still aboard.  Really.  The tardis that is our locker space holds all this and more.  The joy (and the mess) comes when we need to access a panel inside one of those lockers, and so need to empty it out.  Or empty them all out.

And how, might you ask, were the girls doing during all of this?

Totally unfazed.  They burrowed through the mess, carved out three square feet of space, and kept playing.  My girls!