Living the Dream: Consulting in Chaos While My Husband Destroys Our House
Ah, the joys of working from home. Or in my case, working from an old house that hasn't seen TLC since the 1980s. They say restoration is a labor of love, but nobody mentioned it was a two-part act of marital chaos and consulting calls. While my husband is on a mission to tear down all the plaster and lathe, I'm on a mission to make it through my 60-hour work week without collapsing under the weight of endless Zoom and Teams meetings. Welcome to my glamorous life!
"Can You Hear Me Over the Hammering?"
My daily dilemma: consulting calls where I need to sound like the voice of calm expertise while a sledgehammer goes to town in the next room. It’s like being in a corporate Hunger Games arena—just with fewer arrows and more plaster dust. I’m genuinely surprised I haven’t accidentally unmuted myself mid-discussion with a client to scream, “Stop the jackhammering. I’m trying to help a Client!”
Finding Purpose (and Paint Scrapers)
Then there’s the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Watching my husband sweat through his t-shirt as he swings a crowbar like a scene out of "Fixer Upper: The Extreme Edition." Meanwhile, I'm in the corner, clicking through PowerPoint slides, desperately trying to look like I’m doing okay without sobbing. The six hours I spent scraping paint off the trim? It felt like I’d summited Everest, but let’s be real—it’s a pebble in the mountain of things to be done. I'm half-convinced my husband considers my work hours as his own HGTV audition reel.
So, How Do You Decide What to Do?
This is the million-dollar question. Prioritize your day! Consult in the morning, scrape paint in the evening (after a 12 hour day), and wrestle the vacuum cleaner in between. It’s a delicate balance of project management and deciding when to hide in a closet with a glass of wine. - who are we kidding? Sometimes, its the bottle. Honestly, sometimes the answer is: you don’t. The house looks like it’s been caught in a renovation tornado, my inbox is overflowing, and I’m still wondering if the paint scraping is even worth it when there’s an entire wall that looks like it’s holding on to the 1950s with all its might.
Real-Life Home "Maintenance"
Because of course, amidst the consulting calls and construction chaos, someone still has to keep the household running. Dishes, laundry, cleaning—these are the constants in the universe. Nothing screams "you’re winning at life" like sweeping the floor while dust continues to settle from the last demo. Or hand washing the dishes, praying for a plumber to show up before you start digging a well in the backyard. My new reality? Cleaning is less about making things neat and more about maintaining some semblance of sanity.
The Conclusion? There Is None.
There’s no perfect answer. We’re both contributing in our own ways—me with my consulting wisdom (and occasional paint scraping), him with his relentless drive to see this house live again. At the end of the day, we’re just two people trying to restore a bit of history while keeping our sanity intact (and avoiding any OSHA violations). Clark has lost 20 lbs while living here and looks like a Greek God; I look like the marshmallow man who rarely gets more than 2,000 steps in a day.
So if you find yourself in a similar boat—or old house—take comfort in knowing you’re not alone. We’re all just trying to scrape off the layers, literally and metaphorically, and find the beauty beneath. And if all else fails, there’s always wine and a closet to hide in.