The best of times, the worst of times.

Yesterday was fantastic. I came home, watched several movies, read a book, and then had a lovely dinner at Mickey’s, where there was sangria and pasta, and we all know how I feel about wine that comes in a jug and complex carbohydrates.

Today I woke up at 3:42, couldn’t fall back asleep, left the house at 7:00 and then spent close to eight hours sitting in a freezing house going through bank records from the 1950s and occasionally weeping over random things like strips of paper and projectors and Comet containers. Why did he have to label everything? Didn’t he know that I would find the Comet he bought five days before he left his house for the last time and then end up embarrassing myself in front of the help-again?
Oh, and waiting for the world’s slowest carpenter to hang the damn cabinet doors already.

No. Really. HE WAS SOOOOO SLOW. There are not that many doors. ALL DAY.

However, we have light fixtures now. And they are quite possibly the prettiest light fixtures I have ever seen. I almost hugged the electrician. This is the one in the dining room.

It reminds me of Beauty and the Beast for some reason. I’m not a crystal chandelier girl, or fond of anything overblown, so the search for a dining room light was a little bit difficult. But this was just pretty enough but still modern. It’s my favorite.

Except much like the bathroom issue, I don’t want anyone else to live there and use it. These renters did not pick out the fixture, and they did not post pictures of it on Facebook and they probably would not appreciate a piece of paper taped to the heating vent. It is mine. Hands off, Hypothetical Gay Couple.
The counter arrives on Monday. I may just move then and ignore the fact that there will be no running water, refrigerator, or downstairs bathroom.

I need a real job. If only I had any skills other than writing twenty-page papers in an evening.
Okay. I need to go to a holiday party now. My fingernails are encrusted in eggshell satin, I have a horrible headache, most likely due to the abovementioned weeping, and yeah, I probably should take my hair out of the painting-friendly pigtails. Whatever. It’s family.

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