We're about to give new meaning to the phrase, "Shop the House."
Momma Kitteh knew what we had planned and wanted reassurance that she'd see us alive again.
After all, that can opener is tricky.
Yes, it was time to venture into the Storage Unit.
Stuffed to the gills, with our cook books and favorite cooking toys, not to mention my china and linens, wedged squarely in the back-back-back, everything had to go.
Two years without a creme brulee torch had been a challenge.
This is where all those hours of playing Tetris were finally justified.
We hauled out Mom's sweaters, some family antiques that are passing to me, and I'll finally be able to set the table with something other than plastic.
New Year's Eve Puzzle:
Spot the wheelchair in the miasma.
We let her out, I promise.
A lot of this went back in,
but the mother of all yard sales is being devised.