That woman's touch

The boys came to begin work on the facade of our house yesterday, and surprise, surprise there is a pipsqueak of a girl who works with them too. She's a dark haired little thing with grungy, cropped hair, lots of piercings and a pretty face. She's got the unshaven thing going, you know bohemian, hairy legs and unplucked brows and so forth. This is something I could never do, but yet strangely I admire those women brave enough to go au natural. She's an alternative-hippy type so of course I liked her immediately. I think they're going to do a great job on the house. They all seem to have an artistic flair, evident in their flamboyant personal styles. Unfortunately I won't be here to see the final results of their work because baby S and I are leaving tomorrow for the USA.

The house's exterior is really taking shape. Seb talked about climbing up in roof the rafters to sand the exposed beams next week. I'm sure I had steam coming out of my ears when I screamed "you'll fall!" He will fall too because he's very clumsy. Add to that the fact that he always seems to have some dramatic accident just before we go on vacation, usually involving complex prescription ointments and weekly visits to a local clinic, and you'll understand my anger. I also reminded him of the work he already has to finish in the next six weeks inside the house. His plate is really full: pouring concrete in the kitchen and dining room, installing a new kitchen sink, installing a bathroom sink, drywalling the dining room, finding and installing temporary flooring for the concrete, and cleaning and arranging the entire house before leaving the keys with our retired, American house sitters.

The home I come back to won't be the same one I'm leaving. It never really is. The husband won't be the same either. Seb will eat taboulé, tuna and reconstituted carrots in vinegar for six weeks and unwittingly lose several kilos. He won't iron his clothes and he'll walk around in his underwear all night, not minding the lack of curtains and not caring that he's putting on a fabulous show for the elderly woman who lives behind us. Both the house and Seb will lack the woman's touch and be the worse for it, and yet neither will ever admit it or care.