You know that time I thought it would be kicky to adhere patches of aluminum foil to my 1/2 bath ceiling...
Yes, I did...in my Trading Spaces days, inspired by Hilde.
It was subtle...because not many people gazed at the ceiling in that room. It looked so cool, for so long...too long. It was time to come down. The peeling began so easily...up and down our ladder, Sweet Man and I obsessively pulled at corners and were met with the satisfying rrrrr-i-p of removal. Three quarters off. In a matter of an hour. I'm so glad I chose to patchwork the smallest room in the house.
Then we hit the the first layers I placed. I did a really good job with the glue. You know I'm an over-achiever. Those first patches are stuck for good. Burnished. Permanently one with the drywall. It's up to me and one of our good knives to scrape the rest off into little tiny bits. My fingernails and knuckles will never be the same. I think I'm going to take the sander to it.
Now, who wants to paint the ceiling?..one of my least favorite tasks... (Actually the 1/2 bath, the back hall, the laundry bath all need it!)
Most of you have heard by now...we're moving. Sweet Man has accepted a position in the Dayton area and so the mad scramble to get the house ready for sale is on. The irony of home improvement is not lost...making the ideas we've tossed about for years come to life, to make the house just right, all to turn it over to someone else...who will probably undo what we just did do.
However, we've known for some time now that this house was not just right for us. My restless heart has been stirred up. Having all four of us in the same place, off the road, for the past year has been wonderful. My menu is planned, my cleaning schedule implemented, and school going
fairly swimmingly...all so predictable and stable. It's time for another adventure. Maybe this one with some land to explore. And a puppy.
My aunt, upon our announcement, deftly pointed out the fact that I was quite the home-sick-body growing up and now I don't want to gather any moss.
