I got home yesterday and discovered a house that was disgusting beyond my wildest dreams. Powerwashing may be effective, but it makes a wicked mess. It's distressing to me.
Inside, I've made a little progress in sprucing up the upstairs hallway, though we still have no means of painting the stairwell and its 24 foot walls. That may have to be a professional job. I picked a lovely color called Indian White, and I'm pleased. What I'm not pleased about is the state of the walls themselves. Part of me is kind of geeked to have original plaster (once painted hot pink, I discovered last night), and part of me wants to rip it down and start over. I cannot express these feelings to Eric, who would gut the house entirely if he had the option. Seriously, though, there are some pretty major flaws, especially up near the ceiling, and these are not things that are fixable with spackle. The skim-coating we had done on a portion of the wall that was damaged is mediocre at best--a remnant of our crappy contractor that will haunt us forever. Sigh.
Anyway, fam arrives tomorrow, and we're getting very excited, though I feel as though every time I make just a little bit of progress in getting stuff cleaned up, I look around and discover a pile of drywall dust, a tumbleweed of Yogi hair, not to mention multiple piles of trim that need to be put up that are scattered all over the house. So tonight is reserved for putting crap down in the basement. My mom will likely call and say, "Oh, don't worry about anything!," to which I will respond, "This is my equivalent of cleaning before the housekeeper comes." I'm embarrassed, and I want to impress my family with the awesome potential of the house, and I feel as though that might not happen if there is crap everywhere.
I've been thinking a lot of how great it's going to be to have the fam together again--Abby and I both manage to see mom and dad a couple times a year, and to see each other once every 18 months or so, but we're never BOTH in the same place. So this will be a very special visit. I keep imagining how cool it will be to wake up early on Saturday morning, make my coffee and watch The Practice (normal Sat. am routine) with my sister. Then we'll take the pups for a walk. It'll be great.
We're also planning a game of Trivial Pursuit that is shaping up to be quite high-stakes--girls vs. boys. Here's the problem with that set-up, though. The boys can not compete with the girls on topics like literature, and we can't compete with the boys on sports. The best I can hope for is a question about hockey, and my answer will, invariably, be Wayne Gretzky. I figure that there is about a 50% chance that this answer will be right for any hockey-related question.
In other news, we watched the debate last night, and my mind was not changed. In fact, I came away from it even more solid in my conviction that I'm making the right decision. McCain looked angry and shaken and sounded bitter. That doesn't particularly bother me, but when those sort of nonverbal indicators are there, AND you're spouting lies your party has provided you with, it sounds desperate. Obama's no saint, and for quite a while there, I was considering voting for McCain--I find the rhetoric that Obama used to use about "hope" and "dreams" and "fluffy kitty snuggles" to be patronizing and appealing to the lowest common denominator (much in the way I find Sarah Palin's vitriol to be pandering to the LCD of the right wing). But I think Obama has come around and has stopped using that fluff because the times call for real brains, which he's got. I particularly liked McCain's insistence that he wouldn't use a "litmus test" (goodness, it's like we're in a time warp...) for his appointments to the Supreme Court, but that he would never appoint a pro-choice judge. Ummmm, what?
Anyway, there are my musings for the day. I'll try to post more pictures of the squalor we're living in tonight.