You see? Another picture of my kid around dirty house parts. This is what we do now.
"Can we play outside?"
"Sure. There's this neat outside place called Lowes."
He's been a little trooper, but I have to budget four times the amount of minutes we spend in any one place. When one is three, one needs a lot of time to ride on the lawn machines, look inside every toilet, and do fake skateboard tricks off of loading ramps. Never mind we just need a set of hinges, there is a giant row of old lead-painted, salvage doors that need to be licked.
I've been using the phrase "time-sensitive" a lot. No, I can't wait three extra weeks for the sink, it's a time sensitive project. What do you mean you need to reschedule my appointment? It's super time sensitive. This vague yet somehow pressing statement puts people in a different head space.
"Here I thought you were just crazy and whiny, but now I see you're on some kind of mission from God. A time sensitive mission."
The paint for the bathroom is picked-- Blair did you end up going in for "celery ice" on E's room? I can't remember. Anyway, that's one of the ones that's going up so I'll let you know how that turns out. Thanks for all the suggestions about the shower curtain. Of course, most of you are right about how easy they are to make. I went looking for a twin flat sheet to sew button holes in and came away with a white seersucker curtain (on sale!) that should do the trick. I'm in the middle of a quilt project that will get finished if we stop getting company (more in tonight), or maybe I'll just set up in the middle of them? It's a going-away-we're-going-to-miss-you-like-bananas gift that in all truth is, er, time sensitive. I'm trying to get my brain around free motion stitching so I'll have some incredibly stimulating thoughts on that subject when I return. I promise.