All alone with a house full of men

Yes. The reno has begun. There are about 5 men milling around the place, cursing under their breath, setting off the smoke alarm and making otherwise unrecognizable noises that I am pretending to ignore. Except for one. While I was surfin' the net, as one gentlemen behind me was fixing a crack, I heard a CRACK! then a BONNNNNNNNGGG! Don't know what it was. Haven't looked back behind me to find out. Not sure I even want to know. And while I know that this house is full of quirks and oddities (read: short-cuts) that the previous owners felt appropriate to include in the building and/or remodeling, I'm not sure I can handle hearing 'professionals' point them out uncensored and candidly with each other. Hello? I'm right here! Do you not know how neurotic this will make me now? Or how much I'll obsess about it and lay awake at night wondering if they were serious or not? And if this kid says, 'Wow, that drill is really fast' one more time, I swear I'm gonna...never mind. Poor Lydia. She's freakin' out, man. FREAKIN' OUT! Her toys and couches are covered up. And we couldn't find 'Kitty' or 'Sheep' for nap time. If she even falls asleep, it'll be a miracle itself. I'm not so sure I'm the stay-in-the-house-while-the-contractor-and-his-minions-do-the-job-to-keep-an-eye-on-things type. Now, I know that at any given time, my house looks like a bomb went off. But the thing is, it is my bomb or my kids' bomb, and I can easily detonate or diffuse it at a moments notice, whatever the circumstance calls for. A contractor's mess amidst the normal everyday mess at the Dennis Home is something all together different. Now I'm wishing I had put away some of my 'unmentionables' in the master bath. I'm hoping Lydia is up for a reeeeeeaaaaally long walk outside in a minute. Gotta get out of this madhouse.