Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Extreme. . .

. . . me? . . .
. . . maybe. . .


I'm glad you're down there working on your applique. . . fabric spread all over the floor, scissors in hand. We're both tired from a busy weekend and probably should go to bed early but if you don't make time for your handiwork, you may not get any done at all tonight and wind up feeling frustration later.  Do it now while you can because once the Shirk Brothers (Yeah, I've met Mr. Shirk.  Nice enough guy.  Firm handshake.  Sincere smile.  Called me by name.  But you wait.  You'll see. He's gonna destroy the lower level of the house and make my life miserable for gawd knows how long.) get in here and tear up the basement, which they say will take "two weeks" to put back together, you won't have a place to do this.  Yes, you thought I was extreme in my fear of having the house in a shambles for an interminable amount of time, but you just wait. We'll have to take down a plate of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sauerkraut and cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving, possibly several consecutive Thanksgivings.  I can see it now.  I'm feeling nauseous. 

You may think I'm extreme, but. . . I'm just sayin'. . . 





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