We're in the final push now. It's become a sort of mission. We're going to move back into our house if it kills us! We're going to move back in if we have to hang all the trim with the help of our neighbors and cousins! We're going to move back in if we have to pick up the paint brushes and paint oursel...
WAIT A MINUTE!
We are NOT painting this house ourselves! A girl has to draw the line somewhere!
The painter had better be slappin' some paint on tomorrow or this girl is going to track him down and have a come to Jesus meetin'.
No. No. I don't care if he had someone else's house to paint. No. I don't want to hear it. I want him to paint MY house. NOW.
I want to go HOME!
I really can't complain too much. (Well, I could, actually, but I'm just too tired so I won't.) There has been quite a lot of rapid change in the house.
I cannot yet show you before and after photos so how about from this to this photos?
Yup. Let's do it.
The fireplace went from this...
|Ugh. The soot stained facing and corroded insert has been removed.)|
The floors went from this...
|Even more lovely, Hardie Backer.|
|Oh so much better!|
|Grout color? Grout comes in colors?|
Check out the master bath shower:
|I'm lovin' it!|
We had to pick grout for this tile too. Pick. Pick. Pick. Pick furniture. Pick tile. Pick linoleum. Pick a doorbell. Pick rock. Pick a door style. Pick a siding color. Pick paint. Pick cabinets. Pick a counter top laminate. Pick drawer pulls. Pick a sink. Pick a light fixture. Pick 19 more. Pick the outlet covers. Pick a faucet. Pick dishes. Pick towels. Pick a shower door style. My picker is just about broken.
Tonight, I walked by a mirror in a department store and suddenly this sick feeling came over me. It was sort of a panicky-angry-whiny-stomach-in-a-knot emotion that I wanted to run from. It was the realization that we forgot to buy vanity mirrors and lights.
That is a problem. A problem I have less than one week to resolve.
The end is near-er-er than before. Very, very soon the 'Welcome Home' post will be here!