This coming Tuesday, March 3rd, has been designated as "The Best Day of the Year 2009" in my mind. It's true: 2009 has just begun, but I already know that Tuesday will be the highlight of the year. Actually, winning the lottery is about the only thing that could top it, and since I don't play the lottery, Tuesday is certainly the runner up. Tuesday is the day that my new best friend, Borris the carpet man, is coming to install our new flooring. You have NO IDEA how bad my carpet is. Not even in your wildest dreams could you possibly be able to imagine the horror - I won't go into it - you really don't want to know what I know about the carpet... bad things... dirty things... stinky things... let's just leave it at that. But for a quick example of the rough life our carpet has had in the six years we've lived here, see below:
Rhett spilled red Gatorade this morning. How he got ahold of it is another story for another day, but I mean, it's as if the one-year-old wants the carpet to go out with a BANG! You want to know the real beauty of it all though?? I did not try to clean it up. I didn't even try to sop it up with a towel. I am soooooooooo sick of cleaning this forsaken carpet that when I walked upon Rhett's spill this morning, I threw my hands up, cursed the carpet gods, and vowed that I am not cleaning up ONE more spill or "issue" that occurs on my floor. I am not even vacuuming. Why bother? This floor of nightmares will be out of here Tuesday, and I think if I have to vacuum or clean up a spill one more time before then I will explode.
Take heart, for I have found something that eases my stress about this situation: It helps to go stand next to the new flooring piled in the computer room that is awaiting its installment on Wednesday and run my fingers along its clean, smooth, stain resistant and easy-to-care-for surfaces. Is it wrong to be deeply in love with boxes of new flooring?
This is the kind of craft you create when you have boys: A burning building that your seven toy firetrucks can pretend to put out. Now, I may not be a good drawer, and I may not be able to throw a ball without embarrassing myself, but I can make one killer burning building out of construction paper.
"Look, Mom! I made the letter "A" with microwavable popcorn bags." What? Doesn't everyone make "A's" out of popcorn bags?