Fallingwater

I was two miles from home when I got the call.

"Hello."
"Hey."
"You sound strange. What's wrong?"
"Ouch."
"What?"
"Ouch. You know that part of the ceiling we were going to pull down in the dining room? We don't have to. It just fell on my head."
"Are our crystal goblets okay?"
"Yes, but a wrought-iron chandelier fell on my head, and Atticus is pinned under 50 pounds of wet sheet rock. I think I have a concussion. I'm feeling woozie."
"What about my figurines? Did my figurines break?"
"No, but I have a headache, and there's several 2X4s in a heap in the middle of the dining table."
"And the Spode? Is the Spode alright?"
"I'm hanging up."
"Okay, see in awhile. Love you. Thank goodness everything's okay."

Our dining room ceiling collapsed this week, prompting the "Chestnut House Bucket List."

As I have often stated, I realize home maintenance is important. It's just not sexy. Will new wiring get us the cover of Elle Decor? No. Will support beams in the basement be featured in an Phaidon Art Book. Again, no.

Ron has started using a new type of "Decorative Psychology" to explain Chestnut House projects to me, i.e. "We have to install a ceiling before we can paint it," or, "If we repair the floorboards, they'll support the sofa you want to put on them." He's so clever.

Of course, all of this happened as we were preparing our house for Thanksgiving Weekend with our families, planning a party, teching two shows, and generally finding how far a human body can be stretched, mentally and physically, before you hear that dreaded "snap".

Painting and wallpaper are on hold for now, until we can shore up the floor, the ceiling, and make sure the clawfoot tub doesn't fall on the turkey while our guests are seated in the dining room below. Ron calls this type of thinking "prioritizing". That's just a five syllable word for boring!

Until Sunday,

Jon (and Ron and Atticus.)