Sure, you "real" campers won't believe me. But I am not a real camper. Camping is not my idea of fun. I will never understand why someone packs up their can't-live-without household items, puts them in a car and then lives outdoors for a few days.
This is my argument that remodeling is like camping:
We are all squished together in sleeping rooms, not in our normal beds.
There is dirt. EVERYWHERE. Everywhere. I am so sick of sweeping, mopping and washing shoes. Too much dirt. And I hate dirt.
Everything is packed. If a child needs a bathing suit or a beach towel I will have to pause, go through a few boxes, go into the garage and dig. I have no idea where our non-everyday items are.
We are all limited to about 10 outfits, since everything is packed. I have access to my bedroom, if I walk out the front door, down the sidewalk, down the driveway, and across the backyard. As a result I only go into my room about once a week. My most worn clothing is in one drawer in Lainy Ann's room and I do laundry, often.
There is a porta-potty in my front yard.
The kids spend all their free time playing in dirt, collecting rocks and sticks (and nails).
Food: I am no longer a gourmet. With all the dirt, laundry and stuff everywhere its almost impossible to wrap my head around actually preparing meals. We have been subsisting off of nuggets and hot dogs. The kids are thrilled.
We are up with the sun . . . because the workers have arrived. They are hammering and drilling and banging every morning at 7:00 am on the dot. They actually arrive by 6:50 am, unload their trucks and start working by 7 am. *yawn*
I have to be dressed all the time. No more lounging around in jammies. Several times I have been surprised to have the plywood door removed and to see the workers in my living room. Fortunately I was always dresses, but I can no longer rely on the walls/doors to give me privacy since they are removable.