Those of you who have been here for a while know that we had a house fire 20 months ago, and that ever since, we've been repairing and painting almost every room and everything we own.
We're nowhere near done.
I have blog fodder for the next several years, trust me.
The last room to ever get new anything has always been Sam's and mine. It's been horribly abused and neglected. How badly, you ask? Come with me, I'll show you.
Warning: this is not for the faint of heart.
Hurricane Wilma in November 2005. The air conditioner and a chunk of wall flew across the room. There was also a corner of the house missing on the other side of the house so that if you opened the boys' closet, you had a view of the yard, and there was some roof damage. That all got fixed. Right after that, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Don't get all maudlin on me. I just didn't have the energy to repair anything.
Oh, and then we had a bee hive in our wall. We opened up the wall and got rid of them.
Termites then attacked and ate a few things.
And then there was this fire thing. We ended up as a storage room with barely enough space to maneuver.
Mom moved in and space got tighter. The original plan was to fix her back and build a little cottage for her on the property. This hasn't been a possibility with her health, so we've been arranging the Florida room for her.
Yesterday was it for me. I'm an orderly, organized person, and the chaos had to go.
If you have teenagers, you probably have access to a crew who will work for food.
All of the furniture moving was done in short order, which meant I could now dig us out from under the mess.
It's not a pretty job, but there are reasons we all do this kind of garbage, right?
Just remind yourself who you do it all for.
Yep, just ended a sentence with a preposition.
I'm keeping that photo handy for frequent reminders.
If any of this crap is yours, kindly come remove it.