Excuse My Dust

Yes, yes, I know. Promises, promises. It hurts me as much as it hurts you not to write or call. I promise.

Things are a little nuts, and will be until (at least!) this time next week. There is home improvement underway of the Professionals Installed a New Floor and now we paint and assemble stuff and buy more stuff to assemble variety  (guest room redone and finished soon–come visit!). And because we never tackle such projects in manageable chunks or when life has left plenty of space and time, well, things are the aforementioned nuts. My first packet’s due in a week, for instance, and C has a similarly big project to finish up too. I just read a (brilliant) novel draft for a dear friend and need to collect thoughts more nuanced than (brilliant). Etc.

So the e-mails that are languishing? Probably will be for another week. Posting here? Will continue to be sporadic as well, though I’ve got more than enough links collected for a hangovers post in the near future. Facebook? What’s that again… Photos of completed painting*? May abound.

*You can’t plan the perfection of something like me arriving home yesterday after work with Emma and Puck fresh from the groomer, where they had been sequestered during the reflooring of the back rooms, only to discover Christopher hard at work already with the sky blue paint… Emma promptly stepped in the tray and began racing around like crazy leaving sky blue paw prints everywhichwhere on said new floor, and on the old floor, and everywhichwhere. At least it came up easy.

Scroll to Top