Answer #1: Because I am OCD about crumbs and sticky stuff on counters. Answer #2: I do not know!

Anyway, now I am cleaning the floor because, well you can see. Upended compost container anyone? I had just been thinking about going out and dumping that. But I didn’t and now I am cleaning the floor because I do not want coffee grounds tracked all over the house.

It is the end and it is The Packing Dream come to life. You know the packing dream? I have the packing dream periodically. It is where I am trying to pack for something and I am sitting on the floor (that’s usually where I am in the dream) grabbing all manner of cosmic debris and jamming it into a bag. The bag is full but oops, I forgot this item. And that item. And all over. Those bits and scraps of flotsam and jetsam appear as fast as I can pack stuff in. So I end up with a mess. Dreams like that keep me from being a hoarder!

I started packing stuff away the weekend of the Ann Arbor Folk Festival, way back in January. Carefully and slowly. Bubble wrap and boxes and trying to think through what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to get rid of and how to get rid of that stuff yada yada. Tonight? What’s left has been thrown into the bins that CKL left me on Monday. Because, yes, I needed a few more bins at the last minute. I have already gone box-diving tonight while preparing The Last Supper. I wonder if I’ll be able to find anything when we get to the other end.

Okay, so the GG is going to salvage a few loverly things from the Landfill Chitchen. And so he removed the CTW that I have always had a love-hate relationship with only to find WALLPAPER behind it. A strip of wallpaper, that is. He thinks that this wallpaper was in his childhood home in Royal Joke.

And then, “Hey KW!” “What now?” Oh. Yeah. That. If there had been an iPhone back in the Jurassic Age, I would’ve taken videos upon videos of my Mouse writing her name at the ripe old age of two-and-a-half. But I certainly didn’t have an iPhone (or even a BetaMax or whatever the heck those monstrosities were) so I can only sorta remember the process. It was a process and it involved turning the paper upside down at one point. This particular time, she wrote it on the wall. Most people cannot turn a wall upside down without magic or a whole bunch of equipment so I’m not sure how she did it.

A sane couple of people might think it would be wise to eat out on Renovation Eve. Trying to eat in has been a Royal Pain and I have been Box and Bin Diving more times than I can count but I needed to spend one more evening in this crappy old kitchen, standing at the crappy old sink blahgging from the crappy old counter, listening to National Petroleum Radio. We’ll probably eat out tomorrow night and many nights for the duration, which is only supposed to be three weeks.

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