House shopping has spurred my DIYness (totally a word now) and I’m scouring the want ads for furniture for refinishing. Our sofa and love seat are trashed. We are tired of the coffee table and end tables. 12 years in close quarters breeds contempt towards home goods.
I have sand paper and black lacquer spray paint at the ready. Garage sale season is in high gear. If I’m going to score replacement seating for our new home, I have to be prepared.
We do not have a prospect house in site. We have narrowed our search to new construction. I swore I would never live in a subdivision. Slap my face and call me “Yuppie”. Never say never.
The topic of moving back home has come up. Not home home. Just back over to the county of our origin. I won’t be living in our hometown again. Not happening unless hell and high water. I can’t do rural.
It’s a huge move. Different town, different schools. Closer to Mike’s work by a couple dozen miles. It makes more sense each hour. Oy. There are nice neighborhoods going in. I do miss living on Puget Sound, a little. Little.
What frightens me is moving the girls’ services to another clinic. It’s in the same health care system but the wait list is half a year out. Maybe a break from therapy will be good. Maybe maybe.
I never thought it would cost $1400 to recarpet this trailer. Prep for rental is painful. Next up is a plumbing diagnostic on the kid bathroom. Water sprays down the wall when the shower is on. Henry, the plumber, told me it was fine when he was out here fixing the water heater last summer. He needs to double check. No mold, thankfully.
Getting sleepy. Better sign off before I drop my phone in the bathtub.