At the exact moment I made that decision, the garage lights decided that they would no longer function. This resulted in my having pieces of livingroom, storage, diningroom and heaven knows what else strewn all over the house.
OK, fine. I'll live.
At 9:15, the lights** decided that they would cooperate again. And I discovered that "unpack the diningroom" really meant twelve different things, all beginning with "unpack and rearrange the garage, aka The Storage Room from Hell."
Now, I'm a packrat. Everybody knows this. It's not a trait I'm proud of... but it's part of a fine heritage carried down from my mother, probably going back to the vikings or something. Paul will never admit to being a packrat, but he has his moments, too. And so I'm un/repacking the massive garage full of CRAP.
Some boxes were water damaged and needed repacking, like some of the holiday boxes. Others have contents lost in the sands of time. Some are empty, awaiting another move.*** Some unmarked boxes, I'm sure, contain relics like the Ark of the Covenant, or silverfish.
Whatever. If you don't see me for a couple of days, send in the dogs?
I'll post before and after photos of the diningroom when I'm done. I only wish I'd gotten photos of the garage before I'd started. I don't think you'd believe what I'm up against.
* Why, yes, we have lived here since May! Why do you ask?
** Obviously imbued with some sense of humour.
*** Over my dead body.
**** Can you say "ebay?" I knew thatcha could :)
******** Oh, and will get to comments on my last entry, but I have to make hay while the sun shines, or throw away crap while the lights work or something.