Ok, I have a kitchen table set up! Everyone come on over!

Ignore the three feet of stacked empty boxes, the partially naked baby, the bags under my eyes, the grass that was overgrown a week ago and now just looks abandoned, the fact that I smell like a football player on steroids and the screaming, teething, nap rejecting toddler. And the dog with the split personality. Don't pay any attention to her.

Oh, and the mismatched dishes? I like them.

As you can tell, this is all going well. Very well.

I unwrap the dishes and put the newspaper in a bin. MissToddlerAngel empties the bin. I pick everything back up. She takes it back apart.

At some point, this place will be finished and will look and feel like home. Right now, it's more like, WHY, someone explain to me WHY I decided to do this?

It looks like a yard sale is at least two weeks in the future.

Blast.

In the immediate future is the painting of MissTweenAngel's new bedroom, purple with sparkles, to be completed prior to her Monday birthday, and the baking of her cake, and the wrapping of her gifts. I thought I had this timing planned out so well. Now I think that Fasig is lacing their coffee with crack.

 What the heck was I thinking?