Puppies couldn't mount this pile

Moving back to Wisconsin was supposed to have been temporary. We'd planned on finding some place else wonderful to live, but, well you know, the weather here…you just can't beat snow in April! Anyway, for now we're here and let's just put it this way, I'm not hoarding any boxes for an upcoming move.

So, because this living arrangement [the one with us living with my dad] was supposed to have been a pit stop, I really haven't given a flip about decorating, or installing any kind of closet organizers.

Which brings me to the laundry. Up until now our laundry has basically commingled together on the floor of our bedroom. I have to keep reminding it that this is only temporary, do not get comfortable. Because this pile? This pile of laundry is so large I could lose a small child in it's inner chambers. Because, yes, it's big enough to have it's own set of floor plans. And oh-my-god, a flip-flop? A flip-flop can be swallowed up into a twisted sheet. Consider yourself warned: keep your slip-on sandals at a safe distance from this pile.

The clean laundry has no where to go, because like I said I haven't taken the time to install closet systems. So, we wash it, and then dump it onto the pile. And when it comes time to get the kids dressed I tie a rope around my waist and tether myself to the bed frame. Then I dive into the pile and start cursing. I also make deals with the universe from the pile, while I look for matching socks. I think to myself, "Please, Universe, just let me find the other sock, and I swear to you, I will straighten up this laundry tomorrow." But I lie. I tell big bright white lies to the Universe, and she's sick of my bullshit.

But, it's not only about the laundry. The bedrooms lack designated spots for the kids' toys and books. It creates a general feeling of disorder, and the rooms become warm, fertile grounds for random receipts, wayward Candy Land game cards, indiscriminate wrappers, and rounding out the mess: a roll of toilet paper here, and there. [And the toilet paper...will never have a proper "home" in a bedroom. That's just wrong!]

Anyway, I've grown tired of the kids' bedrooms looking like the movie set on Trainspotting. So, Thursday night, Ben and I decided that enough was enough, and planned on taking the weekend to redecorate the girls' rooms.

We got an early start on Friday, and things were clipping along…the first half hour. But, you know when you start a big project and your all fired-up and then about half way through you just want to lie down in the middle of the whole mess and sob? Well, it didn't happen half-way through, it happened right after Ben swiped the first glob of purple onto a wall, and then asked me to rummage around in the basement for a paint roller. Really, couldn't I do something else less soul sucking, like organizing the spice jars?

Turns out there was something better, and less soul sucking, and I chose ME as just the person to do it. This situation needed to be documented. Because, it was indeed a sis-shue-way-shun. So, I grabbed my camera to document our collective slipshod lifestyle. Also, I wanted proof, EVIDENCE, of how far we'll have come once we're done.

Because once we've unstuck all the chewed gum from the carpet and found the last vagrant sock in a dress-up purse, I'm going to hang the "proof" on their bedroom walls. Then, every time one of them drops a sweatshirt or an empty package of donuts onto the floor, I'll clear my throat and point to the photos and go…"See! Look! And if this room ever goes back to the dark side, I will make your father take another wife so that SHE can be the one to organize, and seperate, the Barbie clothes from the Brio!"

Anyway, the rooms are almost finished, and I'm happy to report we didn't find anything, other that an apple core, decomposing; to which, Ben and I high-fived each other.

Last night, the girls slept in their respective rooms for the first time, and I'm delighted to report that no one toppled off the bed. No one jammed a toe into the leg of a repositioned bed or dresser, there were no visible injuries this morning. But the paint fumes, oy vey, they get to me, so I insisted the girls sleep with their windows cracked opened. All I'm saying is, these kids have got to stay intellectually on point if their going to find lucrative jobs and support us through our retirement years.

Now, we still have a few little tweaks here, and straightening there, on the rooms to do in the next couple of days. Then, I plan on photographing the rooms and posting the "after" pictures here. I'm going to try, and remember, that I don't sell real estate any longer. After five years in the business I'll need to sit on my hands to keep from writing captions under the photos like: "Airy bedroom with architectural spender, loaded with charm and character. Schedule a showing today. Bring your fussiest buyers!"