Under Construction

Things have been kinda busy around here. You know, what with me winning the AFC championship for the Colts. What? You didn't see me there with my laser rocket arm? No? Okay, okay. I was totally the 12th man. At home. In front of the television. But that's okay, because Payton said that Colts fans are the best fans in the world. And he's right. I rock. Alrighty, that's enough of that. Except for this: Watch out Saints! Geaux Bleu!!!! (Um, that's Go Blue in Cajun. I'm multi-lingual. *snort*)

Aside from trying very hard to cough up my lungs and spleen and giving my best Barry White imitations in the morning due to The Crud that is going around, we have been busy with the loft conversion. We no longer have a loft, people. We have a room! With a doorway! And a closet! And drywall dust everywhere! Okay, so I'm not so excited about that last one. But hey--a room!

For about a week this is what our entry way looked like:

Is that the tallest ladder you've ever seen? It's a two man ladder and you would have had to pay me megabucks to climb it.

Then see that thing there? The metal plank thingy? My husband says it's called a "pick." I say it's called a "pick my fainting body off the floor." The drywall finishers walked back and forth across that thing like they were only inches instead of 15 or 20 feet from the floor. Every time I looked at that thing my knees got all watery and well, excuse me for this but, it made my buttocks clench. You're welcome!

Then when my husband walked back and forth across it to prime and paint the new wall, I couldn't walk by it without thinking "widow-maker" and tossing prayers heavenward.

Here's is what will be Mary's room. See? Closet! With no doors!

See? Windows! But no paint! Or carpet. Well, there's carpet, but it's rolled up in the hallway waiting to be recut and retacked back into place by our carpet guy. It's really fun to navigate the hallway in the middle of the night when Mary comes into our room and wants to sleep on our floor. Stubbed toes? I've had a few.

Soon things will be painted green. That's right, I said green, not pink. Her Royal Contrariness has decided that she would like her new room to be just like her old room in our old house. Ahhhh five year olds...can't live with them, can't sell them to the Gypsies.

And this is how the entryway looks after the paint. (The paint looks kind of yellow, but it's not. It's sort of a light khaki color. Or maybe, it's Chino-colored. Heh. It has some yellow undertones --thanks, previous owners!--but it's not yellow.) It's like that wall has always been there. I keep walking by it and thinking, "Wow, that looks like it's always been there!" So you know, it um...looks good.

After we finish Mary's room, I'll start painting James' room. He wants a black chalkboard painted wall and then French's mustard yellow paint on the rest. Just thinking about it gives me a migraine. I'm working overtime to convince him that we can make it look Steeler-ish without so much yellow. So far, he is not convinced. I'm still trying to wrap my head around him wanting Steelers colors instead of a Colts themed room. I'd like to say that the Superbowl will change his mind, but I've already bought the bedding. So he'll continue to cheer the Colts while sleeping in Steelers sheets. That just doesn't seem right, does it?

Meanwhile, my second son, with a perfectly good room, tries his hardest to tell us that he'd like his room redone. Because he always gets hand-me-downs. Because he never gets to be the first to do things. Because he really wants to have a Colts room. Hmmm...He might just have me at that last one.

Geaux Bleu! Show those Saints who dat!!