Waiting patiently on the toilet for someone to open the door. Image from here.

I thought about writing a funny “I’m back” post about being stuck in the half-bath for the last few months. Something about how the door sticks something fierce because it hangs at an angle, followed by a sardonic joke about the boys never bothering to check on the rattling noise coming from behind the door. I was going to tell you that no one really noticed my absence while I daydreamed away my winter, sitting on the toilet waiting to be released from my tiny prison, because the boys adjusted to my absence while I was away. But no, I am alive and well and not stuck anywhere.


[Imagine me jumping out of the tiny bathroom and surprising you in the dimly lit narrow hallway– with my arms in the air and my frizzy hair unrestrained– and try not to be scared]

Truthfully, boringly, we are just so gosh-darn busy these days. The kind of busy that results in messes like this.

The piles make for some fun digging.

The piles make for some fun digging.

And you should see the rest of the house.

No, you shouldn’t. Blogs are a place for exquisitely photographed spaces, light falling diagonally on made beds with fresh linens, rustic mornings on farms, fashionable ladies and rosy-cheeked babies, not messy reality. But there you have it. We all live with it, then we find time to fix it, and then we photograph it before it falls apart again.

I had a feeling this would happen when my semester started, not the mess, the not-updating-the-blog-ever part. The mess happened because we are renovating one of the last un-renovated rooms in our cozy little cottage that wants for entirely lacks adequate storage for man stuff (no garage) and woman stuff (no decent closets). Sorry for the sexist generalizations; I suppose that many of you ladies out there keep your dearest possessions out in the garage, and that some of you menfolk have ample-enough threads to crowd out your partner’s side of the closet, but not in this house.

For the last three years, I have mostly kept my clothes on the bedroom floor or on a chair or in a pile at the end of the bed, with a few special pieces shoved into the tiny closet that I begrudgingly share. My hubby, having finally reached a maximum threshold of dissatisfaction with stepping on my clothes, finally agreed to let me convert nursery-size guest bedroom into a  . . . wait for it  . . . WALK-IN CLOSET!!! You should be able to tell by my use of capital letters that I have never had one of these special modern conveniences, and I will let you know how it goes as soon as the project is complete.

And in our spare time —after work and on the weekends— we emptied, dismantled, and renovated the master bedroom, which was sorely in need of a makeover. The makeover is almost complete, though still lacking finish flooring and furniture, besides a bed. And what a lovely bed it is.

Why is the bed so lovely?

Because we just spent the last couple of weeks negotiating for the more comfortable couch depending on who had the more demanding work schedule the following day, like: fine, you teach two long classes in a row, I’ll take the splitty couch tonight. Which, for the record, is a 1970’s hand-me-down couch from my brother that comes in two modular parts, two halves that inch further from each other at the center as you sleep, making your body into a hammock, swaying between two platforms, bottom down.

Sleep tight everyone!

Hope you enjoyed this little update from our side of the nuthouse. I have missed you all and your fabulous blogs! And if you are bored and anxious (you know, get help) but, also, I have found that it seems to be helpful to read about other people who have similar problems, so may I suggest some oldies but goodies, like: The cumulative side effects of home renovations and Working full time really interferes with blog writing, as it turns out.