We purchased a fixer-upper this past summer. I'm glad there is a cute name for it—it's less depressing than saying we purchased a complete wreck of a house which will need virtually everything except the studs (and maybe even some of those) updated and/or repaired.
I'm also glad that there is a multi-million dollar industry in place to support people like us. There are books, magazines, big box stores, videos and disastrous reality TV shows to show us what to do, what not to do and to remind us that we are not alone.
We are not making progress as quickly as a Type A like me would prefer, though this is not unexpected. So currently I focus on celebrating the little things: "One electrical outlet in the kitchen was replaced today! We now have one outlet that may not kill me when I use it! Let's whip out the hand mixer!" "One of the weeds in the weed garden turned out to be Greek oregano—hooray!" "Some day way in the future when we get around to addressing the dining room, I have bookmarked the perfect chandelier that we will purchase and install!" It's a bit pathetic, but it keeps me going.
One of my latest "Hooray!" moments came when I realized we had made enough progress on the bathroom that I could warrant purchasing a small rug for it (trust me, it was not rug-worthy for the first several months we were here). I brought our new rug home, carefully cut off the tags, patted myself on the back when I noticed it didn't get stuck under the door when the door was opened or closed, placed it this way and that until I had it just right and then I wandered off to make myself a celebratory cup of tea.
On my way past the bathroom a few minutes later, this is what I found:
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| "I'll help you hide this hideous rug until you come to your senses." |
Apparently, Téa has decided that the new rug fails miserably as a rug and is trying to spare me the embarrassment. I know this because she has taken to wadding it up into a tiny ball every day and then tries to make it disappear by flinging herself on it so there is barely a bit of fluff visible to confirm its existence.
Maybe next time I'll just take her shopping with me so I can get her opinion up front...
Too funny, especially how she can get her whole body to fit on a tiny rug. We are looking for the day we can one day too have our own house; I've become a bit obsessed with all the decor blogs lately. I'm excited to see what you do, and whether the pooches approve.
ReplyDeleteok, it's hard to make me burst out laughing at my computer screen, but you just did it. that photo and caption are SO great. thank you for making my day!
ReplyDeletealeksandra
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LOL! Tea looks like she'll be a very helpful design assistant!
ReplyDeleteAnd don't feel bad about slow progress. I'm ridiculously slow, but progress is still progress! As long as you have fun with it :)
Our pit does the same thing with my bathroom rug. Maybe I need to get the hint and get a new rug!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and following my blog. I'm glad I visited here today. You have 2 gorgeous Pitties and I love their personalities already!
ReplyDeleteAs far as the rug is concerned, I understand. I, too bought a lovely little throw rug when Nyxie was a puppy and was so proud of my savvy purchase - cute and inexpensive. We were living on a tight budget at that time (er, still) and I wanted a little something that would pretty up a drab rental apartment. I set it down and walked away. Nyxie peed on it. After a few tries at cleaning it, I threw it out. She's since stopped this habit, and we have far fewer throw rugs ;)