As busy as I've been, I managed to have a family member garage sale yesterday. It was invitation only. Mandatory attendance. I laid out all the young men's clothes that have littered my house this school year. Emphasis on LITTERED. Boxes half full of clothes in the study, bins in the bedroom. Clothes on empty beds, dropped in hallways. Who does it belong to? You're guess is as good as mine. Did the college boys leave these items at home? Did they expect to wear them again, or were they cast-offs? Did they hand them down to Reg and forget to tell him, or did they tell him and he wasn't paying attention? It was time to CLAIM their stuff, or risk not eating dinner. I meant business.
All items remaining will be donated.
Tank tried to shop and leave the room, which was against the rules.
Me: Excuse me sir, I need to write your name in these items that you've selected to cut down on confusion. You can't check out until I've marked them with my Sharpie.
He thought I was joking, I wasn't.
Attention offspring, I'm taking back my house, one pile of crap at a time.
I've recently discovered how to star emails. Wow. This little click makes finding emails SO.MUCH.EASIER. The question is: am I now starring too many emails? Will the favorites soon be so crowded that I'll be as confused as ever? I'll share updates as the situation warrants. I know you're on the edge of your seat with this revelation, and you're checking your calendar to see what year it is and scratching your head in wonder at how far behind I am.
CLOSE THE DOOR, sorry for yelling . . . untrue, I was really miming. I so wish I had a video of Wilhelm from last summer. I was sitting on the deck, sunning myself. Mini was technically babysitting. I told her to send him out on the deck to play. Fresh air, etc. We were trying to get him to be more independent. He came out on the deck and didn't quite close the screen door.
Me: CLOSE THE DOOR.
To him, it looked like it was closed. I motioned and said: "Push it more."
He turned towards me (with his back to the door) and when I held my two hands up like I was going to do WAX ON, WAX OFF - but one hand above the other, facing the same direction. I pretended to close the door as if it was hanging in the air,. Wilhelm faced me and replicated my actions EXACTLY - holding his two hands up and closing the 'air' door. I don't think my describing it does it justice. It was SO funny. Excited for Wilhelm. His future as a mime is BRIGHT.
I aborted the mission and got up and closed the door myself. Obviously.
Our kitchen addition/remodel was done in 2017. Well that's an inaccurate sentence, because technically it was STARTED in 2016, and if we bypass the two fired contractors who ripped us off in varying degrees over the YEARS (yes, I said years - not a typo, probably obvious by the all-caps), I'm still confused about how to pinpoint the year we did our kitchen. It was completed in fall of 2020 after the installation of the long-awaited hood, so there you have it.
Anyway - Coach doesn't like how the water sort of pools under the faucet handle. If your wet hand reaches back to turn off the faucet, then water drips or gathers back there. He's begun sticking a paper towel along the backsplash there. Because? Because that looks awesome? Because a wet paper towel makes the area magically dry? There are no words for how this makes me feel, so I will just share a photo and assume that you grasp my emotional need to combust at the sight of the soggy paper towel.
We have a beautiful kitchen. This paper towel is distracting from that.
STOP IT. See, words don't do my feelings justice.
What trick do you use to rid your home of discarded items? How do you handle the water that may gather under the handle of your kitchen faucet? How do you handle the spouse who rigs stuff that makes a situation look worse than it is? Do tell.