Welcome to the Big Top

Life on my 25 feet of Moore Avenue was little piece of chaos last week. At one point, I was ready to charge admission to the neighbourhood's very own circus. I would like to think of myself as the lion tamer, but the truth is probably closer to the bearded lady. (My hairstylist recently offered to pluck my eyebrows gratis, just so she wouldn't have to look at them anymore.)

On Thursday, BabyBear and I kicked off the morning in fine form with a 6-mile run. If time had been free, we would have extended the distance a bit, but I had a friend/new colleague coming over to talk all things Harlequin.

Upon reaching the house, I learned that our eavesdrough dudes had moved up our install date and were on their way over to the house. As I changed Carly into her fashion statement for the day, a neighbour stopped by to chat about her new job. Amid the girly fun, my friend/new colleague arrived. Or perhaps it was the eavesdrough team...I can't remember. Simply put, traffic was a-flowin'.

Before long, the eavesdroughers were upselling me on my soffit situation. And BabyBear started to wail. And I realized that I hadn't yet showered, something that had to happen before we left for our lunchtime playdate. For a split second, I actually forgot that my friend/new colleague was standing there, waiting for my attention.

Something had to give and soon.

Between the din of power tools overhead and BB's protests, I whipped out a boob. A sweaty boob, in front of my friend/new colleague. It wouldn't be that weird if he (or yes, a HE...an important detail) were just a friend. When he accepted a new job at Harlequin, however, he became a colleague. And when I whipped out the boob, he became the guy who wanted to die right then and there. At least the poor guy had the courtesy to affix his stare on my forehead for a solid 15 minutes.

Fortunately, life has settled down somewhat in recent days. BabyBear has returned to her chilled out self. I have showered a few times. When the eaves team said last rites for our roof, I suggested that we just pitch a tent above the entire mess. After all, we are getting used to life under the Big Top.