I might be the world’s worst housekeeper. No. I definitely am.
We’re finally having our living and dining rooms painted tomorrow, 14 months after we had the drywall hung. I’m tired of living in unfinished. I need paint on the walls.
It’s not for lack of trying. The one and only time I tried painting the trim I spilled paint all over kitchen floor and counter and got so pissed off I threw out the can of paint after I cleaned up the mess. I guess I showed that can of paint.
Then we hired who we thought was an ingenious college kid who’d hung his painting company’s banners all over town one day. They were on every street corner, blowing in the wind. They lasted all of a few hours before the powers that be told him to take them down. But at least I got the phone number. Turns out I could have lived without it. The kid took our down payment and then took off. It was only after several emails to his boss and a threat to sue that I got our down payment back.
I retreated to the want ads. Work wanted: painting. I called a few numbers, a guy came out, he seemed nice and wanted nothing down. He says he’ll be here tomorrow. I hope so.
Larry and I moved everything out of the way tonight. This isn’t easy when the rooms are filled with a year’s worth of furniture and knick knacks. We moved most of the stuff to the porch and covered it with tarps in the hopes that it won’t rain and no one comes by and decides to redecorate their house with our stuff. Our stealth dogs won’t be much help in the guard department since they’re all confused about the change in furniture and will most likely be sleeping upstairs with us tonight, oblivious to thieves on our porch.
Anyway, in this moving of furniture and removing of pictures from walls, I discovered dust. A LOT of dust. A disgusting amount of dust. And dog hair. Ew! I broke out the vacuum, Pledge and Windex in a hurry and scrubbed the exposed floors because God forbid the painter sees dust and dog hair tomorrow morning.
I’m hyper and tense and uncomfortable in this mess right now, and I’m unsure if Want-Ad Man will show up tomorrow morning. I suppose I should be happy that at least those two rooms are now dust and dog-hair free. I guess that’s something. For a few days I won’t be the world’s worst housekeeper. Maybe I need to look at it this way: if Miss New Jersey gets to keep her crown despite those photos of her drinking shots and having her boobie bit by some boy, I should be able to retain my reputation for neurotic cleanliness despite a few lax months, right? Works for me!