Home alone

With Rich indisposed on Sunday, I hit the house on my own to expend some energy and get a little more work done.

I also learned that when I go to Home Depot wearing an old painting shirt and my Pirates ballcap, I can't get anyone's attention even while waving my credit card around. But when I have to go back a few hours later to grab some primer and return a wallpaper steamer but I'm wearing a tank top instead after spending three sweaty hours ripping maroon flowers off my hallway walls, I can't get anyone to leave me alone. (It is Home Depot, after all, I suppose.)

Anyhoo. I also learned that I've been there often enough that I've heard "Hey, you're back" more than once this week.

No pictures, as I was Rich-less and it's a little tough to take photos while you've got a steamer in one hand and a scraper in the other, and you're covered in old glue and strips of ugly, ugly wallpaper. But it's gone! Yay!

After that, more spackling. Is it a little sick that I enjoy spackling? Spackling, sanding, cleaning, covering the floor in paper and painter's tape ... this is our life.

Also, I'm probably just being weirdly paranoid, but I had the sneaking suspicion someone's been in the house. I know, I know -- the first thing I should have done after the ink dried on the closing papers was change the locks. So I went out and bought new locks. And installed them myself. Granted, it took a call to Dad to finish:

Brooke: Hi, Mom -- where's Dad?

Mom: Anything wrong?

B: No, I just need Dad's help. I'm trying to change the locks and I'm stuck.

M: By yourself?

B (mentally): Oh, shit, I really shouldn't be doing this on my own, should I.

B (for real): Well, yeah.

M (proudly): Good for you.

It took me two hours, but I did it. Lots of swearing and such, but it looks much better. And I feel less crazy.

We're just about ready to do some actual painting, if my world continues spinning on the correct axis and Rich's digestive tract begins to cooperate.