On an intellectual level I knew he was going to take out the walls and investigate what was up with my house. I was not prepared on an emotional level for what I saw. Now the contractor was as giddy as a schoolgirl and very proud of the work done, when showing me the results. Work, that seems to me went a little, ok very overboard.
Weren’t we keeping the plaster, and that other thing, and what the hell did you do with my ceiling?
On an intellectual level I see the importance of taking out the drywall of a wall. A wall that was hiding the fact that the upper portion of my stairs were not supported by anything. Sort of like the hole in the wall that wasn’t supported. You can see the hole, or better the chunk of wall ready to fall through the floor, in the back of the room near the doorway. There was other crap hidden under stuff, like the bathroom floor was near rotted.
On an emotional level. Different story. Which is why my renovation eye-witness may be spotty in the future. What I felt standing alone in a gutted room I was not prepared for the weight of all that just happened and what is to be, sinking in. That and the sound of the wall chunk shifting.
I just don’t want to see my house until it is in a more hopeful state. I don’t think I want to even go near it, but I have to because the mail forwarding hasn’t kicked in yet.