So, a small update about my house:
It is getting better. My weevil infested pantry has been cleared, bleached(For the SIXTH time this year), refloored, caulked, and completely re-organized with air-tight containers. I think I have enough measures in place now to keep weevil-suck at bay.
All the carpet and linoleum is laid. Tile gets put in tomorrow along with new baseboards, window and door moldings and crown molding in the living room. It looks, feels and smells AWESOME.
My kitchen has a new portable island, jelly cabinet, spice cupboard, and mixer stand. The cabinets are getting sanded and varnished and my kitchen will rock the house.
All my clothing has been sorted and cleaned out.
Actually, EVERYTHING in my house will be sorted, scrubbed, cleaned and organized by the time I am done. EVERYTHING. How amazing this is, I cannot begin to say.
I’ve been working my ass off all day long. Between my parents freaking out about how I put Molly screws into the wall and the fact that I had an entire shelf of games collapse on the floor, thus effectively spewing a million game pieces EVERYWHERE, I am fairly bitchy.
It also doesn’t help that I made a pasta salad with prosciutto before I remembered that my father doesn’t eat ham anymore.
Why, you ask?
Two years ago he had a quadruple bypass and had two valve replacements done. They used pig valves and he says that if he eats ham he would feel like a cannibal. My father is the king of weird.
I still have a ton of boxes to sort through and put away, the bathroom has to be finished (Which will suck a major duck. No, it will suck a major goose…Or quite possibly a turkey.) I keep chipping away at it with the help of my parents. They can be such a pain in the ass, but I could not have done it without them. You will never meet parents who try to help their kids more than mine.
About the time I couldn’t take one more minute of working on my house, it was time to go work with my friend Karen. (We clean my hubby’s office building 3 times a week.) When we were done we decided to go and hang out with Bridgy and her kids.
My favorite moment of the evening? Bridgy’s 5-year-old daughter was trying to tease that her mom was a “Brat” and she thought that this would be more effective if she spelled it.
“Mom! You are a B-R-A!”
(I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next. Truly, I could NOT!)
“It’s true. She’s always given me support and makes me perky”.