Months have somehow slipped past me. I set out to chronicle the work on our cabin, but because of the work on the cabin, I haven't had time to chronicle.

Is that irony?

If this process has taught me anything, it is that builders EARN. THEIR. SALARY. We've been up and down the highway most weekends--being our own contractors--and let me tell you, it's a good thing we're not getting paid to build our own cabin because, frankly, I'm not worth the money.

We've also been packing up the house we've called home for 18 years because we thought someone had finally bought it. Turns out, they wanted some ridiculously expensive and unnecessary improvements which we were not willing to pay for, so they backed out.

And we couldn't even keep their earnest money. What's the importance of being earnest if you can't at least make them bleed a little green?

So, needless to say, keeping this place show-ready for the last 9 months has been exhausting, mentally and physically. There were many days when we'd get advance notification of half an hour that a realtor wanted to show the house and I'd think to myself, "Oh no. I have to put those damn shams on the bed again." Because the house has to look picture-perfect. No mail on the counter (because, really, who gets mail at their home?) No dirty clothes in the hamper. No vividly-colored towels. In fact, everything that makes it a home has to be changed out and/or hidden away. Our realtor, The House Whisperer, told us it needs to say, "I can see myself living here."

And by "here," he really meant "in a magazine." My dining room table has been set with the china and sterling for the last 9 months, as if we are always ready to hose a banquet. I just dust around the plates.

Needless to say, working on the cabin has played second fiddle to selling the house. But I am happy to report that, since my last post, we have installed egg crate panels (don't ask) in the cabin ceiling. On top of that, (because it is NEVER one and done, I'm finding)  R-31 insulation. We now have a flushing toilet, with the help of a water hose at the meter. We also have a functional shower with glorious steamy hot water, courtesy of an instant on water heater.

This. Is. Huge. An indoor outhouse and a hot shower? Can I get an amen??

We have installed part of the kitchen counter and sheet rocked the bathroom and master bedroom completely. This is my first experience with sh*t rock, as I have now dubbed it, and I am happy to report that I detest everything about it. It's heavy. It's cumbersome. It's messy and awkward and a purity pain in the fanny, especially on the ceiling. And when you do get it up there and screw it down, THEN you have to tape over all the seams and mud it and tape it and mud it again. In between, you have to sand off everything you put on the first time (if you're me) and then mud and tape again. It's a process that has been very educational though. We've learned that we're hiring sheet rockers to do the basement.

The wildlife has returned since the last post as well. Over the winter we noticed the chipmonks went underground and the few birds that visited were all gray: tufted titmice, dark-eyed juncos, nuthatches, chickadees. But this past weekend our phoebe returned, with her sweet little song of promise that the cold days which encased our little cabin in cloudy mist are behind us.  Soon the fireflies will return, and the colorful birds, and the track hoe driver, who will bring a few loads of gravel for our muddy driveway and take all the fallen trees and limbs littering the property. Soon we'll have a door on the bathroom, and also on the bedroom. Soon we will begin laying oak flooring. And soon, we pray the right family will buy our beautiful home. Perhaps they will have a 5-year-old, as we did when we built it. Perhaps they will look at the spectacular view and be so smitten that they will want it in their lives every single day, just like us 18 years ago. Perhaps they will take our place among neighbors and friends, not to replace us, but to develop their own special relationships, making their own memories. I truly hope we are riding this emotional rollercoaster to arrive at the Happy Ending eventually, where we have financial freedom and our dream cabin in the mountains. I hope the folks who buy our home get their fondest desires fulfilled as well. Because this house--this HOME--has certainly been that for us.