Okay, okay, okay. I don't have pictures yet. There is a very good reason. And that reason is, I do not re-do a house the way my mother does (one room at a time). I have ADD, remember? So I flitter here and there. PLUS, I have to wait until certain projects are done in one room before I can continue (like electrical, sheetrock, etc) and I only have the husband for one day a week.
Oh, here's something you may not know: I have learned, in the past week, that I am HORRIBLE at sheetrock. I kick-ass at texturing but I don't have the necessary patience to mud. I need to stick with painting and decorating, that's where my real skills lie. Oh, and directing, I'm EXCELLENT at directing. Though, I'm finding that particular skill is not quite appreciated as much as I'd like.
So, what have I been doing instead of writing and posting pictures? Well, I've been painting the stucco on the front of the house (no, I'm not done). I started painting the iron work on the balcony (I've only done one side). I'm painting the front door red (I've only painted one door - it's a double door). I painted the family room - well, most of it - I ran out of paint for the fireplace wall. I dremmeled half the grout in the family room - I need help moving the computer crap to finish it.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
I spent 3 hours cleaning our bathroom today. I was on the ol' hands and knees cleaning the grout with a toothbrush. Almost finished it, too.
So, you'll get your pictures when you get your pictures.
Geesh!
Update on the Hiz-House for My Peeps
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1 comments:
Shades of my mother! Good golly, Miss Molly...you take on a project exactly like my mom used to: she would, for instance, start out with the intent of cleaning out the "junk" drawer in the kitchen (Martha Stewart, or not, every kitchen has, or should have, a junk drawer). Two minutes into the job, Mom would find something in the junk drawer that belonged in her bedroom closet. She would take that object back there and find something that belonged in the bathroom, and something there that belonged...you get, hell, you live the picture! So, the little task that she began early that morning, thinking it would take no more than 20 minutes, would end up in the evening with me coming home from school to a house that looked like the feds had been searching for state secrets (remember, this was the time of the cold war). Every pot and pan would be out-- some on the kitchen counter, some on the floor, some in the sink; half the contents of the bedrooom closet would be strewn across the bed and hallway; the bathroom counter top would be covered with copious OTC drugs and various paraphanialia that even now I don't want to think about let alone identify. Magazines lay all about the living room (something about recipes that she had been dying to try). Ah, Mom, I miss you and had not truly realized until now how much of yourself you left behind. Love you, Molly girl.
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