maybe I'll wait for the hormones to pass

No one likes PMS.  No one likes a bitch in the house.  No one likes inconsolable crying over your older brother stealing a freshly sharpened pencil because he's a jackass like that. True story.  I was maybe 12.  But...it still haunts me.

Good thing I've learned to see my the end is near, run, Mr. Wookie, run! behaviors and will warn him in advance..."Oh, by the way, I may be bitchy soon.  Sorry."

And then I'll make him a scotch on the rocks to take the edge off.

So here's my dining room in all it's glory.  Why am I showing this to you now considering we moved in back in August???  Well...things got busy.  We moved in, Mr. Wookie left for a bit, I sulked around the house like a lonely pack of Thin Mints, then we racked up the credit card debt to partially furnish the house after he returned, then I got a job, then I didn't like that job anymore, then we went on Christmas.  In between there was my birthday, Beaver games, our anniversary, and many decorating conversations.  And some of those debts paid off.


Oh, and that job I got.  I quit it.  Even though it involved events and social media.  Because I got a better one.  One also involving social media.  Yes.  Awesome.

The whole house was a "khaki nightmare" as Middle Sister described it.  Yes, the whole house was the same freakin' color.  There must have been a sale on never-ending sadness on the walls.  It's like why mix up the living arrangements, when you can buy a 5-gallon bucket and not have to change rollers?


So like any good renters, we smacked a bright-ass red on the walls.  Hello, kitchen!  This is how living should be.  Besides, the color red ensues hunger.  And we hunger for color.  Because we don't suffer from cataracts and prefer to enjoy our living digs.  That and the landlord just said, "No purple."  So we're just following orders.

Ahhh, look at this exquisite detail.

The perfect lines.

Sublime.

There's just one thing missing about our job.  I just can't quite put my finger on it.  Something's missing.  I'm trying to think straight.  Okay, okay, you got me.  Our painting skills suck.  But I'm blaming it on the blue painter's tape we used in the first place.  I made straight lines, I swear.  It just happened to bleed under.  Gar.  Luckily I remembered hearing about "Frog Tape" as Mr. Wookie ran some errands (Home Depot, check!).  So now the better-be-improved green tape is on the wall so we can fix the eyesore.

I just don't know if I want to start this project before I get even-more-cranky-thanks-to-Mother-Nature.  Or it's best to stave off a few days until I'm calm.  Things could either go swimmingly well.  Or I could launch myself into a Hulk-esque fit of cabin fever, throwing red paint over everything, and writing "RED RUM" in the mirror.

Heeeeere's Sweet Pea!