Is demolition a guilty pleasure?

There I stood in my new living room. I can’t move in more things yet because of work happening on the walls and in the rooms of the house. I can’t file permits yet because the truss company hasn’t finished the final truss plan–the last remaining paper to add to the packet for the city application. I can’t proceed with the ductless heat pump installation as I don’t have a master installer willing to do the job for a REASONABLE amount of money. And I can’t fill the temporary storage unit as I won’t acquire that until tomorrow. What’s a girl to do?

DEMOLITION!!!  As the thought struck me I looked around for a bullhorn. Ok, so no fanfare. I started small with

a screwdriver, removing the outlet covers and switch plates. Then I moved on to the base trim and door molding. Then I began uprooting the carpet. Why does it tearing apart one’s own home feels so good? The mess still looks polite for the moment. A baggie of plate covers and screws, strips of molding propped against the wall and carpet being nicely rolled up. In the end the whole room will be coming down. The windows will be reused; the recess lighting cans reused; and even the studs if in good condition will be reused.

But I still wonder, am I enjoying tearing it up maybe a little too much?
Maybe the fit with the microwave entitles me to indulge.