Floor Here

The carpet is gone in the future boys' room. Jim, Jimmy and Paul worked like he-men to rip it up. Jim thought that detaching the tacking strips was going to be a major hassle since this is a cement floor, but they were only shallowly nailed into the cement. So it came up in a short time. I got no pictures of the process since I was at my mother's house at the time, listening to piano lessons and reading Mom's mail. (Mom gets a lot of mail--REAL mail, actual letters from people not selling anything. Letters from grandchildren, children, cousins, nieces, nephews, college friends, high school friends, old neighbors, church friends. She gets it because she sends a lot of mail. That woman is single-handedly supporting the United States Postal Service. Don't ever stop writing letters, Mom. I don't want to be left with a huge suitcase full of blank stationary that I know you have. I'm also not making fun. Well, only a little. Mom, you are a bringer of joy to many people with your letters. I am grateful that you take the time to write to Katie, especially) Anyway, back to the floor.
They did leave a patch of carpet in the closet. Jim explained why, but I wasn't listening. I was thinking how come the cats have to shed every-flippin-where. See the little clumps of gray? Cat hair. Kilroy was there. No we didn't paint the closet. I didn't feel like it.
The writing on the wall--when we moved into the house, the former owner came by the day we moved all our junk in. He wanted to point out a few things like how to take off the downstairs window to get big things into the room because the stairs, doorway, and hall downstairs do not allow for anything bigger than a bag of groceries or a small child to maneuver into the downstairs family room without getting wedged in some obstacular way (obstacular: resembling an obstacle or blockage). Former owner also pointed out this little map above the doorframe in Hayley's closet. I wasn't listening then either. I have no idea what this means. It's just fun to think of this little map to some unknown THING in my house. I didn't paint over it just in case it could provide important (albeit indecipherable) information at some future date. I also don't dust it so that someday, some spelunker will have to brush cobwebs out of his way, Indiana Jones style, to reach the fabled map to the unknown round thing and it will enhance the spelunker's experience and provide a sense of awe for antiquity.

Former owner apparently didn't think the subcontractors would know where to put the floor.
Former owner is FAMOUS in our family for labeling things. When we first looked at this house, we all snickered behind our hands because we saw that one cupboard had a label for each of its two shelves: Round containers and Square containers.

Some of his labeling is very helpful, like the labeling of the exterior faucet shut-off valves. When we want to shut the water off for the hoses, we know exactly which pipe in the laundry room leads to which of three outside spigots. We also know which pipes lead to which bathroom and to what appliance.

Today, I am skipping church to go to see Wicked (appropriate, no?) with my mother. I am rationalizing my truancy by saying I am spending time with family. But it will be just the two of us. And I, her eldest child and most closely-situated-by-distance daughter and one who loves the music of Wicked, was not her original choice of companion. No, that honor went to my cousin Jurgan, who had other plans and could not attend (he is hunting). My mother asked a cousin, a boy cousin, to see Wicked with her. Sigh. She and he went to see Spamalot too. I didn't get to see Spamalot because she took my COUSIN instead. Oh, the injustice. I plan on getting my mother back by singing along right in my mother's ear with Galinda when she sings "Popular". And since I plan to be sporting a raw throat from a cold, I should sound REALLY WONDERFUL.