Bearing Up

The wee bears have had a hard week. Construction began on the penthouse elevator a few weeks ago,  so the house has been a war zone with hard hat dudes and power tools running amok in the back yard. They’re used to the drilling and hammering by now, but a new twist occurred after Ter’s day off on Monday.

Work on the elevator paused while an old oil tank was dug out of the garden and removed during the past few days—I considered suggesting to the strata that they install a hot tub rather than refilling the hole, but we’re only renting and about to renew our lease for another year, so it might be prudent to restrain myself. This project started huge and anyone who’s embarked on home renovations knows that the plan rarely follows, well, the plan. Better for the renters to keep mum until the worst is over, then bring it up as a joke during the celebratory barbeque in September … assuming it’s finished by then.

Anyway, Rufus is crankier than usual, his bedroom compatriots are misbehaving from nerves, and the kitchen midgets are clinging like the last two Cheerios in the bowl, so I’m spending my day off reassuring them with a domestic presence. I’ve dusted up the house, baked a batch of rhubarb crumble muffins, and am just bashing out this post before I make tea and start writing in earnest. Periodic checks indicate that the bears are relaxing a little—thank the gods that the weekend will be quiet!