(No really...I had to look it up.)
When we closed on the sale of our old house, the new pad was lacking the following luxuries:
A bathroom sink (or any sink)
Now we have both. So I don't have to wash my hands in the toilet. Because I do have one of those. Finally. In the basement. Surrounded by stud walls and mountainous piles of bric-a-brac.
My parents were gracious enough to invite us into their rat-infested slum of a cracker-box house. And by invited, I mean that I said, "Um...Mom...would it, um, be okay if, um, Phil and I and Eddie -- you LOVE Eddie -- and, um, the outdoor cat, stay at your house for hopefullynotmorethanaweekorpossiblytwo...?"
So here's where we were forced to reside for the last week and a half. What a dump.
Please. This makes my old garden shed look like the Taj Mahal. Except for the snow part.
I'm an excellent daughter. I'm an excellent daughter.
I crocheted that afghan. And my mom upholstered that couch.
I crocheted that afghan too.
I cross-stitched this family tree for their 50th anniversary and misspelled my sister Maria's middle name. Shut up.
My sister Diana made these. They're flowers made out of frosting. She also made the stained-glass window. Just when I thought I did something cool, she completely blows me of the water. Bitch.
Random picture. No, you may not paint the buffet.
Eddie ruffing it.
It is pretty cold upstairs. Mom closes that off and doesn't run the heat normally, but she did say we could turn it on. But I've found I sleep much better in a room where my snot freezes to my nosehairs, so we kept it cold.
My dad apparently has a hamster on a wheel running his internet, and a turtle running the wireless. I couldn't even get my Kindle to Fire.
In other news, I seriously need to take some time for some personal grooming. I'm taking the no-shave November thing a bit too seriously. And not only are my roots screaming to the world that I'm really not a natural Blonde, but that I am, in fact, becoming a natural Gray.
And it smells like something died in my car.