The Construction Chronicals, Part 4

Some people just can't stop talking about their kids. They go on and on and on. They're consumed.
With me, it's my house. I've been remodeling almost non-stop since I bought it two years ago. It consumes me.
Actually, I can carry on conversations without mentioning my house. But just ask me, "So, what are you doing this weekend?" The answer is always "(Blah blah blah) my house."
I love my house. It's a diamond in the rough. My gift from God. It doubles as my social center and my artist pallette. I'm into that kind of economy.
Tomorrow the drywall starts in the attic. I could weep for joy.



I'm going to be gone for a week, starting tomorrow evening. I'm going to my neice's wedding on Saturday, and staying through Thanksgiving. When I come back, most of the attic will be drywalled, and I'll sit in the middle of the floor and stare with delight at the marvelous whiteness.

Ahhhhh.

Oops, I went on again about the house, didn't I? I can sense your glazed-over eyeballs across cyberspace. I'd apologize, but hey, whose blog is this anyway?

Happy Thanksgiving.