Progress can be infintessimal right?

Let's talk about smashing. Knocking. Pounding. That's where we are with The Campsie Project. Let's talk Crowbars. That's been my tool of choice recently. Lucy and I got to smashin'—last week and this—the ceiling out of one of the downstairs "bedrooms" (this house is full of tiny rooms-- they're all technically "bedrooms") so that Plumber John could get to the pipes, so that he could run the pipes, so that we could move the bathroom, so that we could have the laundry room, so that we could finish the upstairs so that we can move the fuck in (sorry Mom!) to the upstairs, so that we can stop payin' double mortgages, so that we can be happy for ever and ever and ever.

So there's some things that have to happen, gentle reader.

And they're happening, Kesey. Lucy, she been ripping up base boards, which provides a peculair, near orgasmic satisfaction, if you pull the piece off without incuring damage. Ohhhhhhhh!

Speaking of damage: yesterday I went to town with Jim's sawsall. Can you say "flying plaster chunks?" Yup. I don't know— It's one thing to carefully measure a doorway; to consider the possible wiring in the wall; the stud locations; etc. It's another to actually lay into it with a power tool. I feel sure that I've done something terrible and wrong. Sick and wrong. But I'm assured that I haven't. I'm yet to believe that, personally. But here we go… you know—what with the wall, and the hole in it.

I hope to have a framed in closet door there in the near future.

Tune in next time for some images of Destructo-Vision!©