Sunday, September 7, 2008

And The Dust Bunnies Roll All Around


Those who know me know I’m not exactly June Cleaver when it comes to cleaning.

But now that things are being seriously moved…and packed….and moved and packed (again, ‘cause inevitably I need something from that box and have to re-open it again), I’m understanding just how much cleaning I haven’t done since moving here.


Now, ask me if I care.

(Takes sip of Cloudy)

We had “da gang” over Friday night for the final, final (I-really-mean-it-this-time-I’m-not-unpacking-those-martini-glasses-again-dammit) time for dinner. I felt it was important to thank everyone for all their emotional support…whilst locking them in for physical support on Friday when we actually have to move. (I’ve learned that waiting till they’re about halfway to hammered seems to be a good place to bring it up…that way, they’re agreeable but will still remember they promised….smart, eh??)

(JH: I made salmon recipe you made us…remember? HUGE hit. Once they stopped laughing and realized I really DID make it myself, they loved it….but you got credit too.)

Thought you’d appreciate a look at my hands after today’s purging in the garage:

You’d think it was black marker…right? Well, you’d be wrong. It’s black printer ink…which I figure’ll probably take a LOT longer to fade away.

AND my hands are all swollen because I made the boys pasta for dinner (which was really late…surprise, surprise) and I poured the pot of BOILING WATER on my hands….I’d say about half the water made it into the colander. WHY it happened....I dunno. I'm tired, I guess.

To say my hands sting right now is an understatement.

If I offer my hand to anyone in the near future, I’ll have to preface our conversation by informing them that I do not have a flesh-eating disease…I’m simply moving and tired…I’m sure that’ll totally explain it.

My toes, however, look fabulous:

A friend treated me to a little was just the ticket for what's to come.

(Oh, and for the record…those scratch marks on the door are NOT from Metro, but the previous owners’ several dogs. Our new house has no scratch marks whatsoever…imagine!)

As I was purging and packing, I came across an old Vanity Fair magazine with Clooney on the cover, so I tore it off and hung it on the wall…ya know….for inspiration.

I've often referred to "Pulling a Clooney"'s one of my favorite expressions. The story goes that he was just starting out and was staying at his aunt (Rosemary Clooney's) house and while she was away, he was to paint her fence for her. When she returned, she thought to glance out her window and there was the beautifully painted fence. A few days later, however, she discovered on a walk about the property that he'd only painted the part she could see from her house! So now, when I put lights only on the front of the Christmas tree, we call it "Pulling a Clooney"'s a good thing.

Then I found some old, sweet pics of the boys, so they went up too.

Here's Taylor (that's a lizard he named "Iggy" on his chest...we're in Jamaica, I believe):

Here's Connor at the Cape:

Obviously, they're OLD pics...they're so little!

I can’t decide if it’s more of a distraction than inspiration…but, whatever….it made me smile, so that’s good.

I’ve discovered that I have quite the collection of power tools…I was pretty impressed with myself, I must say. Between those and the miter saw, sandpaper and liquid nails, I figure I should be Tim Allen’s dream gal. Of course, I also have a decent pile of stuff where I’ve absolutely no clue what they are…but I’ve the distinct feeling they’re important for something, as they look vaguely familiar.

I’ll have my contractor-friend go through them and hopefully figure out what’s what.

So far, I haven’t found anything really and truly gross in the garage…and I’m 90% done. You’ll probably hear my screams from there if I do find anything.

I did find this cool hand-puppet-thingie amidst all the boy-toys....I found the perfect temporary spot for it...Metro barked at it for about 20 minutes:

I’ll leave you with a typical mental snapshot: I leave my house (dubbed “The Money Pit” for obvious reasons) Saturday around 7pm to pick up my sister (it was pouring buckets outside), who’s coming with me to see the new house for the first time. I say “later” to the boys and Connor’s working in the sunroom…with no less than half a dozen plastic containers catching the drip-drip-drip of the leaking roof as he’s working on his computer. I say “bye” to Taylor, who’s in the basement with his feet propped on a chair, as there’s a mini-river running under his chair…and I’m thinking “Geez…this is the way we live.”

Then, we get to the new house (dubbed “The Pleasant House” also for obvious reasons)…and it’s quiet….and DRY…..


As Peter Noone said:

“Something tells me I’m into somethin’ good….”

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