I’m not sure what I was thinking when I decided it would be a good idea to wait until I was alone with Olivia to paint the master bathroom. Why use my free baby-sitting when I could let her be free range and sometimes “helpful?” I might be slightly retarded. Clearly I am lacking in good judgement.
In addition to finishing my bathroom, today – thanks to my youngest – I get to:
1) Clean the ground in strawberries out of my living room carpet.
2) Clean the ground in cous cous from my couch upholstery.
3) Return all the pots and pans and fauxperware to my kitchen cabinets.
4) Remove the marker from the cabinets.
5) Use my wicked-cool black light to find all the places she peed when she stripped off her diaper.
6) Sort her older sisters’ toys from her toys and return them to the appropriate rooms
7) Run a load of laundry – not gonna tell you why. You’ll find the answer in Did I just say that?
Every room in my house is trashed. Like, call the health department, how do they live like that, oh my god did that pizza slice just walk across the floor by itself trashed. I’m behind in laundry again. (Seriously? I’m not sure why we even need clothes. I hate laundry enough to support a naked society. I would even pay for the waxings.) And my poor cats should just suck it up and learn to use a human toilet because I’ve been lax on the whole scooping thing this past week. Either that or they should just go ahead and die of the old age. Peacefully. On the lenolium. All 4 of them.
What?! I said of old age. And I included the word peacefully. Gawd!!
But, oh, my bathroom! I love the color. It’s yellow. The perfect shade of yellow. And I’ve only splotched the ceiling once! So far. AND I found the perfect black and red accessories. (Ever take a dump in the french countryside? It’ll feel like you have once I get everything pulled together.) I think the reason I’m so excited is because we have NEVER painted our master bath. We have had builder’s grade antique white in that room for nearly 14 years. The only decor has been a basket of tampons stuck in the corner by the toilet and plastic trash can. It was time.
And what better time to pull out paints and supplies than when no one is around to watch the whirling dirvish? That my friends is what we in the bidness call “good planning.”