Well there is only now in the futurePJ and I scrubbed the house this morning. Kitchens, bathrooms, floors. Windows open, incense burning. Foy Vance on super loud, in spite of his protests. In spite of his plea for Testament or Sepultura or hell, we can listen to Def Leppard if you want, Bridge but not this.
There’s a truth you don’t hear much now do you
Hold the absolute that’s running through you
And be like you belong
But I like this.
Well okay then.
We're trying to keep control of the dust and the footprints and the general filth that comes from having a house that's partially torn apart and I'm also trying not to get into it with Caleb for the same reason though I took the color swatches he gave them for paint (it's. almost. done.) and threw them out and said in no uncertain terms were they to use those colors. They've already purchased the paint, Emmett said, as if I would say okay fine, please paint my whole house dark grey. On the inside.
Caleb thought I would love it.
I do, for his house but not for this one.
This one's getting white everything. And everything that's not white will be black. And here and there in different rooms will be punches of ochre or smokey teal or medium grey. But the walls will be white and god help them they needed to buy heavy duty scrubbable paint anyway. We're not a museum, we're a functional family household and the house gets lived in. Fingerprints everywhere, paint everywhere. Kerosene and guitar picks and cookie crumbs and endless coffee cups. Don't give me something I can't clean.
I think I like to clean.
It's cathartic, like running used to be only now when I finish my reward is that my chores are done.