Ceiling Skims and Inspection Wins

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - AABB Rhyming Scheme)

The popcorn’s gone—no more ceiling fluff,

Though movie nights still have popcorn enough.

We scraped and we sanded, we patched every seam,

Now the ceiling’s a canvas, smooth as a dream.

The plumbing is roughed in, the pipes are all set,

And LEDs sparkle—our brightest bet yet.

The wires are in, though the fixtures are few,

At night it’s a cave with a shadowy hue.

The breakers are off, so we stumble and grope,

But we’re holding on tight to that renovation hope.

The inspector came by, though not right away,

The wrong address sent him astray.

Two-fifty bucks for the mix-up, no jest,

But the electrician’s covering that test.

We passed with flying colors, no faults to be found,

A small hiccup, but we’re still renovation-bound.

The holes in the floor are now filled in with care,

No more dropping tools or tripping mid-stair.

The pantry’s now framed, it’s starting to shine,

A future home for snacks, soups, and wine.

The ceiling’s patched up where the wires once ran,

No more Swiss cheese look—just part of the plan.

Insulation’s back in the kitchen walls tight,

With vapor barrier sealed, it’s cozy at night.

The skim coat is spreading, the ceiling turns sleek,

A sign that the finish line’s not so oblique.

We’re watching it shift from chaos to calm,

Each patch and each wire a soothing balm.

Eli on the new stilts

The studs and the wires, the dust and the din,

All slowly give way to the beauty within.

It’s nice to see things start to align,

Like puzzle pieces falling in line.

From popcorn to plumbing, from framing to light,

We’re inching ahead, and the future looks bright.

Though dust still settles and tools still clank,

We’re grateful for progress—and our contractor’s bank.

So here’s to the journey, the mess and the grace,

To each little win in this renovation race.

We’re not quite there yet, but we’re on our way,

And the house gets more “home” with each passing day.

A Symphony of Sawdust and Wires

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - AABB Rhyming Scheme)

Holes in the floor and holes in the ceiling

Wires are pulled with no sign of healing

They twist and they turn in wild directions

A sparky’s dream—or misdirections

Sawdust is thick, it clings to the air

It’s dirty in here, and dust’s everywhere

Old plugs and switches lie where they fell

A graveyard of gadgets, not working too well

Wires poke out like curious snakes

Switches move homes for renovation’s sake

Lights find new spots to brighten the scene

Shawn’s in the attic, threading between

We sweep and we sweep, but it’s never quite done

The dust keeps returning, like it thinks it’s fun

It’s gritty, it’s grimy, it’s stuck in our hair

It’s renovation life—messy but rare

A photo was snapped in the middle of grime

Curt, Brad, Yuri, and Shawn in their prime

Covered in sawdust, with tools in their grip

A crew in the chaos, mid-renovation trip

One LED shines in laundry room light

It looks so good—we hope they’re all right

The family room’s next, it’s ready to go

Progress is steady, though it feels painfully slow

We’re thankful each day for the work being done,

Though progress feels slow, we still find the fun.

The dust may be thick and the wiring a maze,

But step by step, we’re counting the days.

The finish line’s distant, it’s still far away,

Yet closer it gets with each passing day.

We dream of the moment the chaos will cease—

And our home will return to comfort and peace.

Dusty Time Flies Slower

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - ABAB Rhyming Scheme)

The clock seems stuck while dust hangs in the air,

We pulled the slider—oh, what a costly crime!

Had we foreseen this grand remodel affair,

We’d saved that cash for quartz and island prime.

A window’s framed, though glass is weeks away,

Six, maybe eight, before the doors arrive.

The closet doubled—coats will have their stay,

A tiny win that makes the dream alive.

The pantry’s bones now stand with pride and grace,

No more the basement trek for snacks and spice.

Our future selves will thank this clever space,

For aging knees, that trade-off will suffice.

Three days they fought the tile and mortar bed,

The crew we hired with crowbars, grit, and might.

No glue, thank heaven—else we’d still be wed

To porcelain shards that cling with stubborn spite.

The bin out front devoured the old hot tub,

A sawzall feast of fiberglass and foam.

Next year, perhaps, a smaller, gentler hub

To soak these bones when dust has left our home.

Popcorn no more! The ceilings smooth and bright,

Young Eli masked, a warrior in disguise.

He scraped and sanded through the endless night,

Protecting lungs while chasing level skies.

Beside the hearth, new backing waits in line,

For maple shelves to hold our travel lore.

The island’s traced, the plumbers cut their sign,

And vents now shift to keep the kitchen warm.

So here’s to progress, slow but surely sweet,

Though dusty time may crawl and test our cheer.

Each clang and scrape brings closer what we seek—

A home reborn to love for many years.

Dust and Drawings: Week One in the Demo Zone

by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - ABBA Rhyming Scheme)

One week has passed, though time feels stretched,

The cabinets gone, the tiles removed,

Subfloors fought back, but still were moved—

My handiwork now long-etched.

The closet wall has met its fate,

The short wall vanished near the door,

We search for things we had before—

Each drawer now lost to demo’s slate.

I know just where the cream should be,

But now it’s down a flight below,

A coffee trek through dust and woe—

A two-floor quest for sanity.

Though tarps were hung with care and pride,

The dust has danced through every seam,

It coats each surface like a dream—

A powdery, persistent tide.

But today brought hope, a subtle spark,

They drew the cabinets on the wall,

Chalk lines revealed the island’s sprawl—

A glimpse of future from the dark.

A window ordered, doors en route,

A temp door stands in for the rear,

The finish line still isn’t near—

Yet visions bloom beneath the soot.

The insulation waits in stacks,

A fluffy wall-to-wall brigade,

Prepared to fill the plans we’ve made—

A fortress for the future tracks.

Dennis and Marco, calm and keen,

Advance the work with practiced hands,

Inch by inch, they meet demands—

Their skillful touch behind the scene.

It’s hard to grasp this months-long ride,

But even now, we see the end,

A home reborn around the bend—

With patience as our trusted guide.

View from the front door (wall missing to the right)

View from what was the kitchen (I'm standing in what will be the new pantry)

The Footprint of the Pantry (oh joy oh bliss)