Where's your limit?

Having been without a kitchen for over a month now, I've been feeling a little smug. I've managed to feed a family without a stove or oven, and even had company (kin) over several times. But I may have reached my limit.

On Friday, I came home from work to find that Handyman had dismantled my master bath. This after assuring me on Thursday evening, that he would NOT, I repeat NOT, be "getting into all that" without a few days warning, so I could empty the bathroom of the tubs of linens, plants and 15 years worth of Fine Homebuilding and This Old House magazines, strategically placed near the throne.

Yes, this is the same husband who asked if he could have $500 to replace the icky 30-year old wood sidewalk, and then sweet-talked me into a new roof and two new dormers BEFORE he could do the sidewalk.

Now, keep in mind that the plumbing for the master bath runs through THE KITCHEN CEILING. So, it really does make perfect sense. Sort of like replacing the roof before we put in a new sidewalk. I understand, really.

But now, my comfort has taken a serious hit. I can cook outdoors. I can cook at my MIL's, a mere 3-miles away. I am adept at quite a few things without any cooking. But this whole "go downstairs in the night for a potty break" is going to push me right over the edge, and quickly. Can't brush my teeth upstairs either.

He offered to give me a 5-gallon bucket with a seat on top. I offered him a sleeve of saltines and a jar of peanut butter for supper. We're pretty sure we've bitten off a heimlich-sized chunk of remodeling...but IT's TOO LATE NOW! We can't sell it like this...we have to keep going.