That's a famous line, right? No? Anyway, here's the thing: they do. Well, kind of. Ferinstance, yesterday I get home from a grueling day at the office [hahahahahahaha] and Foster Dad has just finished rolling the wall of the living room. Big room now 40% complete! And, by the way, what do we call that room which is essentially entryhallkitchenlivingroomdiningroommusicroomreadingnook all in one? I refuse to call it a great room because I do not live in a town ending in Grove. Bedroom is easy. Master bath, got it. Half-bath (which I prefer to the ladies-who-lunch-like powder room). Laundry room, closets, porch. I have no idea why I just gave you a virtual word tour, but there you have it. The bulk of my space is unnameable.
I digress. Good friends (and good doesn't describe it: more like saintly) Muffi and Tim came over late last evening for the umpteenth time and did more of the nasty hard painting, and I did manage to get the third and final coat of paint on the Stunning Backsplash, but then I had to putter around looking useful and busy while they toiled. Seriously, I wiped the counters down about three times. I may be living in piles-of-boxes squalor, but it's c.l.e.a.n.
We are fast approaching the time when I have some critical decorating decisions to make. I will pretend to involve you and then just do what I already have planned in my head (though I will say Foster Mom made such a good suggestion last night that I have completely rethought the half-bath; you'll see the results soon in Dwell, I'm quite certain).
Onward, mostly-agnostic soldiers.