I’m trying to be upbeat about the old home improvements, but deep inside there is a voice having a total fucking meltdown panic attack.

On the outside of the house, the tearing off of the old siding for the front of the house commenced at 7 a.m. My bedroom is in the front of the house. When they tore down the side of the house, where I have one bedroom window it was jarring. This morning’s early start on the front where I have three bedroom windows was frightening.

They may has well have been in my room with me, smacking me with hammers. Not to mention the unease of seeing in a groggy, half asleep haze men’s heads appearing and disappearing at various heights above the pane, make that three different panes.

I also believe, but I can’t be sure, that the inside guys came in at about 8 a.m., discussed drywall briefly and left again. I hope it’s true, because that would be such a lackluster hallucination.

Progress on the bathroom has become glacial, thanks partially to city inspectors and, I sense, some communication among the teams. Not sure whether adding to holiday anxiety by having a contest on whether I get to hang some lights and holly on a new selection of porcelain fixtures was a swell idea.

Although, worst case scenario is I welcome M. home to a hotel, where he would likely enjoy playing with the TV and air conditioning. The obstacle is getting reservations on short notice or finding out sooner if my dream bathroom will miss the holidays.

Worry, worry, worry.