I cannot believe it. It is as if I am in a dream. I actually

have regular furniture in my house. I have no windows but I have

FURNITURE! Tables, chairs, the whole bit. It is almost surreal. I

never realized how emotionally attached I have become to my

creature comforts.

It has been six weeks since this whole ordeal started, or five

weeks and five days if my husband is counting (“Geez, honey,

it wasn’t even close to six weeks!). I know that is really quick.

I have met people who have been in the middle of a major

remodel for decades. I do not want to be one of those people. I

had a friend who did not have kitchen cupboard fronts for the ten

years. She became a Tupperware distributor so she could put all

of her stuff in cute Tupperware. There is a devil’s choice …

host endless Tupperware parties or have everyone see your crummy

stuff. I would have to let it all hang out before I could play

another round of Tupperware poker (don’t ask!).

The same woman gave up on ever finishing or painting her

living room. She just hung her pictures on the taped drywall. I

can live without a lot of things, including trim on windows, but

I cannot imagine having to pack everything up again when they

have to sand the drywall. Insanity! I guess we all bear the

burden we are given, but I am at the end of my “supportive

wife” act and heading straight for “relentless

nag” in a big hurry. I have had enough of camping.

Not that camping all summer in the driveway is all bad. Gee, I

haven’t washed a dish in a long, long time. Plastics are a good

thing. On the other hand, it has taken me about twenty minutes to

make one pot of coffee in the morning, and that is about fifteen

minutes too long. I scare small children and dogs before I have

had my coffee.

Camping all summer, I learned that Martha Stewart has it

wrong. I have wasted a lot of time in my life on “proper

presentation.” Men have it right. Chips taste better right

out of the bag, and you can drink coffee out of a glass if you

are careful. “Make do” is a much better motto than

“make it beautiful.” It requires a lot less work and

stress.

I spent every evening outside, and even though it was one of

the worst summers, being forced to be outside was still great. My

family and I spent most nights down by the lake fishing and

hanging out by the fire. Rough life, huh?

The truth is, after having lived here for ten years, we had

begun to take the beach for granted. Not having a house helped us

rediscover why we loved this place in the beginning. Of course,

there is a price to pay. You have to drink a lot of fluids

because you give a pint of blood a day to the cloud of mosquitoes

that hover like the dust on that character Pigpen from Charlie

Brown. The whole family looks like we have the chicken pox, and

we all have a tendency to scratch ourselves in public just like a

major league ball player.

I cannot cast a fishing pole to save my life; my

eight-year-old daughter has more finesse than I. You can pretty

much guarantee that if I am flinging the pole, you better duck

and cover. The fish are safe; it is the trees that are in danger.

I have lost so much gear that the trees look like they are

decorated for Christmas.

All that is over now. I have walls and a roof, and hopefully

by the time you read this, I will have windows, and not just in

the driveway. Installed and everything! There still is a lot of

work to do, but the worst is over. I plan on spending the next

few days sitting in my comfortable chair and taunting the

mosquitoes through the windows. Ah well, maybe we will have just

one more campfire, give the little buggers one last taste.

Kate Russell lives in the netherworld between Carnation

and Duvall. You can reach her at Katemo1@msn.com.