Last weekend we finally cleaned the living room. For most people, this is not an event, but it was the first time we cleaned it in the seven months since we moved in. It was so foul it was almost an endorsement for homelessness—compared to our mess, a Dumpster looked pretty sanitary.
We threw out five bags of trash; the other half Joe won’t let me throw out—part of his Great eBay Money Making scheme. Which we both know means that I’ll be throwing it out in the spring.
And while words cannot express how happy I am to finally be able to see the rug, there is a downside: I can see the rug. It’s the exact shade of cat vomit (I have had occasion to compare the two) and would be hideous even if it weren’t stained and moldy. Ripping it up is not an option because asbestos tile lurks underneath. Although I sometimes wonder if that’s not less of a health risk.
But overall, I haven’t been this happy since we put up walls. I can finally start to think about more fun home projects—and phase II.