Deconstruction

This weekend was a very good weekend. The husband and I started the destruction of the room formerly known as "Cat's Room" and started the construction of the room soon to be known as "The Yarn Room" but is currently being referred to as "That Fucking Mess Down The Hall." The husband and I, who are slightly less handy, than say, a banana slug, some how managed to fix two HUGE yardstick sized wall divots, paint the room with two coats of Crocodile Tears colored paint (or, as we call it, Baby Poop Khaki), and rip up and remove the carpet, an unknown substance we can only assume was carpet padding, and five gazillion staples and tack strips. The hardwood floors now resemble a colander, but compared to the carpet, this is an improvement. Also, the holes in the floor should work well as dirt and dust collectors saving me time and energy on the whole "cleaning" thing. All in all, we are inordinately pleased with ourselves. You'd think we cured cancer with the amount of fist pumping and shit-eating-grinning that was going on.

We still have some trim painting, rug purchasing, furniture placing and the all important unpacking of nine huge moving boxes full of yarn to do before Thursday. The day when Denver comes to stay with us for an entire week while he is involved in a trial. One might say this deadline is not really flexible and that maybe I should call out of work "sick" to ensure that the guestroom is clean, and all extra furniture/yarn/paint supplies are not impeding the restful god-I-just-need-to-relax-because-the-jury-is-awful-and-opposing-counsel-is-worse guest bedroom area. But then one would under estimate my ability to fake it when necessary. What boxes? Oh those! They aren't boxes, they are a post modernism abstract representation of the fall of capitalism through the prism of the uneducated poor peasant.

Despite this looming deadline, tonight's agenda is delightfully absent of things pertaining to "That Fucking Mess Down The Hall" as Joan is in town for dinner. God how I love Joan and her impeccable timing, we could not have planned this better. Joan, it turns out, is one of those hipsters with a cool job that jets her in town for "meetings" so I guess I really love her hippie dippie cool job and the impeccable timing of its meetings. All along I thought she was a normal working slob like the rest of us. Just goes to show what I know. Anyhizzle, after she meets and does whatever one does in meetings (in my office that usually is "ducking" or keeping a discreet tally of "fuck" usage but I suspect her employers are a little less crazy and a lot more unlikely to throw things at each other), she'll have time for dinner before she jets right back out. We're trying out a new place because there is nothing like having a newbie in town and having them act as guinea pig. Well other than having a newbie stay in your guest room and have to climb Mount Boxalympus to get to the bed.