|
|
|
Monday morning I woke up in a nesting-panic, having realized sometime mid-dream that if I went into labor that day then my family would have no clean underwear while I was off snuggling Baby Chickadee in the hospital. This wasn’t a silly hormonal thought, but completely accurate. My family seriously would have been without the most basic clothing essential. So I gathered all the undies in the house and carried them to the basement for a quick load of laundry.
Then I saw it. The basement. Now of course I have seen this basement nearly everyday for the past two and a half years, but sometimes the ugliness of it hits me anew. You see, we live in an old house, with an old basement, with a certain pipe that sometimes laughs at us and backs up and spews dirty water all over the floor. So we tore out half of the remnant carpet, leaving one half of the basement with a wonky remnant floor-covering and the other half with exposed concrete that once had tile but now only has the stubborn glue that refused to go away with the tile. And half the basement is storage and laundry. Pretty!
That day those nesting hormones were repulsed by our ugly basement. A few months ago I told Hubby that I’d like to get rid of the carpet and paint the floor but he wanted to put down tile. So we compromised and did nothing.
After the load of laundry I headed to the park with my friends where I told them about my hope to paint the basement floor. Chrissa, who now lives in a nice new house but once had an old house with our pipe’s evil twin that also intermittently spewed dirty water on the floor, said that she and her husband Matt painted their concrete floor and it made a world of difference.
I got an energy boost.
After the park and after lunch the kids and I headed to Ace where the super nice employees helped me pick out the right floor paint for the job. Then I headed home and called Hubby to let him in on his project for the evening.
“What kind of crazy pregnant thing is this?” he asked. Totally appropriate response. But I told him to just go with it, and the sweet man did. And after just a few hours we have a very pretty, very uniform, basement floor.
If we had more time we’d also paint the walls. But we can get to that later.
Monday morning I woke up in a nesting-panic, having realized sometime mid-dream that if I went into labor that day then my family would have no clean underwear while I was off snuggling Baby Chickadee in the hospital. This wasn’t a silly hormonal thought, but completely accurate. My family seriously would have been without the most basic clothing essential. So I gathered all the undies in the house and carried them to the basement for a quick load of laundry.
Then I saw it. The basement. Now of course I have seen this basement nearly everyday for the past two and a half years, but sometimes the ugliness of it hits me anew. You see, we live in an old house, with an old basement, with a certain pipe that sometimes laughs at us and backs up and spews dirty water all over the floor. So we tore out half of the remnant carpet, leaving one half of the basement with a wonky remnant floor-covering and the other half with exposed concrete that once had tile but now only has the stubborn glue that refused to go away with the tile. And half the basement is storage and laundry. Pretty!
That day those nesting hormones were repulsed by our ugly basement. A few months ago I told Hubby that I’d like to get rid of the carpet and paint the floor but he wanted to put down tile. So we compromised and did nothing.
After the load of laundry I headed to the park with my friends where I told them about my hope to paint the basement floor. Chrissa, who now lives in a nice new house but once had an old house with our pipe’s evil twin that also intermittently spewed dirty water on the floor, said that she and her husband Matt painted their concrete floor and it made a world of difference.
I got an energy boost.
After the park and after lunch the kids and I headed to Ace where the super nice employees helped me pick out the right floor paint for the job. Then I headed home and called Hubby to let him in on his project for the evening.
“What kind of crazy pregnant thing is this?” he asked. Totally appropriate response. But I told him to just go with it, and the sweet man did. And after just a few hours we have a very pretty, very uniform, basement floor.
If we had more time we’d also paint the walls. But we can get to that later.
