Hey, Mrs. Wilson!

It’s official. Six (seven maybe? What time is the carpet getting put in?) more sleeps until the small move.

I spent last night fooling around preventing others from working slaving away and painting our future 1/20th-the-size-of-our-current (according to Ann) place of residence.

Yes, it is going to be ORANGE! I love it. I’m not sure what I love more, the actual color or the fact that it is not white. I loathe white walls.

I’ve moved many times and therefore have had many landlords in the past. I’ve had good ones, I’ve had bad ones, I’ve had ones that had many rules, I’ve had ones that had no rules, I’ve rented from friends, I’ve rented from people I thought were friends only to find out that they came into my house without letting us know and made moving out … a bad word.

Meet Ann. (See? In the picture above of her and me? Oh, wait, no, her gorgeous face is all that I captured in that shot. That an my nostrils.) I have no doubt we are really going to enjoy renting from her. We might even spend more time upstairs at her place than ours. She’s quite a fun person to be around and a great friend. (And she makes really good pizza.)

Meet Debbie. The other third of our Widow’s Night clique. (Okay, not really a clique, but how do you pronounce that anyway? CLEEK? CLICK?)

Disclaimer: Apparently I shouldn’t forget my camera so that I don’t have to misuse Ann’s and take blurry pictures of ladies with unruly painted hair.

Did you know that if you get a little bit of paint on a closet, you have to paint the whole closet? No? That’s not the rule?

My bad.

Oh my friend. You got me through the whole evening without snacking until Tam shoved in my mouth the most delicious chocolately bar thing I’d ever tasted.

I might have had another when everybody nobody was looking. It’s a good think I pulled around 3 kids in a wagon all day.

We worked and worked and worked some more. Back breaking labor. (By the way Debbie, I cropped out your flab.)

And we made some mistakes. Ever heard of nervous laughter?

Apparently you’re not supposed to vacuum underlay. Who knew? We did what anyone in our situation would do. We dug the underlay from the vacuum canister, put it back where it belonged, and pretended that nothing happened.

Touché underlay.