By Muriel Lilker
Dust, dust, noise and more dust.
But we didn't realize all this when we opted to take down the partitions that partly separated our living and dining rooms.
“Just think,” I said to my husband, who wasn't too keen about this all along. “We'll have a great loft.”
“In Soho you get a loft,” he said. “In Bayside you get a long living room with a dining table at one end.”
As usual I didn't listen to Jack. Not when I'd been watching all those shows on TV where homes are transformed into newer, more spacious visions. What they didn't show was how they got that way.
I just wish that someone had warned us about the noise of an electric power saw. Then I might have delayed getting the wax removed from my ears. As it is I heard this monster of a machine all too acutely.
What we couldn't hear the was the doorbell. As well as people on the phone. And even two rooms away with the doors closed we had to shout to each other.
“Well,” yelled Jack, “that's the end of afternoon naps.”
Even the man across the street couldn't take a nap. Neighbors who used to smile hello now quickly drove off in their cars when we came out of our noisy house.
As for the partitions, they weren't going without a fight. If we dared to take them away from the only home they'd ever known, they'd show us.
And they did! As the carpenter sawed away at them, they readily relinquished enough dust to bury everything in sight.
“The furniture!” I yelped, as I scrambled to find something to cover them. Sheets I once treasured were now thrown over our couch. Embroidered tablecloths with delicate stitching were tossed over our chairs. A favorite beach towel was placed over our coffee table. Bath towels and hand towels covered our dining room chairs.
Even vertical surfaces became dusty. Like the legs on our dining room chairs, which I tried to protect with knee-high socks secured with rubber bands.
Did it help to close the doors to other rooms? Not when dust sneaks in under the threshold and into our kitchen cabinet. Jack doesn't like lentil soup even when there isn't a layer of dust on the can. Which is when we started a new roll of paper towel to wipe off everything in the cupboard from sardines to raisin bran. And then decided to just eat whatever was in the refrigerator.
Even my computer was affected. How could all that dust get under Backspace, Enter, Tab and Caps Lock. Would it help to use Q-Tips? Or could I find an old bath mat to cover the keyboard?
Well, we're still in the midst of all this. By now I've forgotten what my furniture looks like. And I'm afraid the sheets and tablecloths will never be the same again after being buried under increasing layers of dust.
As far as our social obligations are concerned, how can we host our book club discussion? Or the post-concert dinner?
No one wants to come here now. Not even us.
