a life in wreckage

I once had a roommate who never unpacked. He set up his box spring and mattress on the floor, dumped his boxes around the room, dug out a pillow and blanket ... and proceeded with the rest of the school year.

I bring this up only because it reminds me of the way I'm living right now. We had our upstairs – bedroom and den – painted this week, which was bad enough (because of the roughly million books I had to remove from up there), but then C sprung it on me that they were doing the kitchen as well. Nice! She's very slick with the art of information slide you see, telling you x, and getting you to agree to that, when in fact she's been intending to run with x + 1 all along. Or maybe, as she likes to claim, it just 'happened'. Either way you find yourself in a fait accompli because you're already half-way into whatever it is, and it hardly makes sense to turn around now (like most men, I have a low threshold when it comes to giving up and just turning into a drone). Which is how you find yourself living in piles and stacks of things, with kitty cats crawling all over.


  1. Ah-hem. I did not "spring" the kitchen on anyone. You said, "So they won't do the kitchen before Christmas?" and I said, "Nu-uh. They'll be done the upstairs in two days and then they'll do the kitchen."

    And the kitchen is on the price quote, mister. The price quote that sat on the hall table for two months. :P

    I just think you're loyal readers should know the truth.

    PS The kittens are the best part of the chaos that we are currently living in, and you know it.

  2. Wow. I haven't seen revisionist history like this since my social studies class with Jim Keegstra. You could give Goneril and Regan a run for their money. In conclusion ... :P

  3. Does your mother know you tell lies?

    I should call her.

  4. LOL, Kittens ARE the best part of chaos!
    C...call her :o)

    I have come to accept that we will always be remodeling. yeah.


  5. ha! may i butt in for a moment here?
    i have witnessed this scenerio so many times, i feel that i might be an expert.
    it seems that there is this "teacher of charlie brown frequency" which men living with women tune into sort of mid sentance ... they have the BEST of intentions of course to hear the ENTIRE bits of info, but that funny CB frequency tunes in and bam-o! they miss all the info given.
    Of course that doesn't explain the price qoute on the hall table, but I regress.
    I bet the paint job is beautiful. Could you send them over to my house?

    backing out of the blog here, handing you both a glass of really nice wine....

  6. The painting is all done. The pros did in three days (and did it very well) what would take me one month to do very badly. Oh yeah, and then mister revisionist history went to a poker game, coming home at midnight.

    Guess who cleaned and reorganized all evening?

    Try and deny that, mister. (I think I should be referred to as a "champ" somewhere in the next posting.)


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