Yesterday, we embarked on a major excavation project, by which I mean we cleaned out the spare room. The spare room had delusions of being an office at one time, but instead became a dumping ground of computers, paperwork, and office equipment, as well as the quiet, dog-free staging ground where a recently trapped cat could be placed pending rehab and fostering.
Imagine one of the closets I've complained out, only twenty times bigger and with a patina of frightened cat on everything. Yeah. (You see why we were putting that off...)
Kevin had been making tentative inroads on it for months, but the sheer scope of the project was daunting. Still, he NEEDS an office. So yesterday we knuckled down, commended ourselves to the Cleaning Gods, threw open a window, and started cleaning by virtue of pitching things out said window. (An immensely satisfying experience, even if you then have to go down and pick it all up and move it again.)
There are shards of shattered particleboard littering the backyard, and the Take To Junkyard pile doubled in size and sprouted ancient computer monitors like cubical mushrooms, but the de-cluttering of the house took an epic step forward.
The carpet has been shampooed, vacuumed, and treated with very expensive enzymatic cleaners. (The carpet needs replacing, but being a decade old and home to small children and animals, every carpet in the house needs replacing, and the budget isn't available yet.) The two cats that used that room as their home base, being exceedingly shy, are disposed about the house, hyperventilating under furniture. Cassie, who really needs to be a barn cat somewhere (does anyone have a barn going begging? Money is no object to transport!) keeps returning to the now-bare room looking for something to hide under, and then fleeing in dismay.
This would have been a good day's work.
I, however, am quite insane, and so I immediately set forth on Stage 2. Off to Lowes, back from Lowes, and an hour and a half later, I had covered the walls in Kilz. (There are very few things in life that cannot be solved with white paint, a bullet, or an apology. As I own no firearms, I prefer to muck around with the other two whenever possible.)
Kevin had been balking at the notion of re-painting, simply because he needs the office soon, as opposed to two months from now, but as he said "I forgot. You're a painting machine." (This is true. I fear many things in life, but paint holds no terror for me.)
And now, I am going to drag myself back to said office and start taping off the trim. Kevin picked "sterling silver" as the wall color (a sort of pale blue-gray with hints of purple) and it's a gorgeous color, but it's gonna need multiple coats...
I am sore. But the world is a more beautiful and less cluttered place than it was yesterday.