Promised myself that I could not go shopping until I washed the front hall closet. (The cleaning of the whole house will be put off until Thursday at midnight) So as I am washing the nicotine off the walls of the closet, I think to myself . . . no wonder my house smells. I was awful, as usual. I don't know why I continue to be surprised . . . it was like this on all the other walls of the house (the kitchen I washed twice) but whenever I get to the next project I seem to forget how bad the last was . . .
So from my point of view, from washing the inside of a closet, the former owners must have just stood in there and smoked. I mean brown goo dripped down as I washed. Was Alice hiding from Harold? How did she not set the coats on fire? "Honey, I'm just going to have a smoke in the coat closet and then I'll get dinner on." I just don't understand.
Now I get to have a Kilz high. Maybe that will enlighten me about the smoking in the closet. Kids never smoke in the house . . . someone eventually will have to wash the walls.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
You could turn this entry into an R Kelly song. It could be part 6 of his epic.
Princess, you know I don't listen to things like R Kelly . . . They showed part of that "video" on "Best Week Ever" and it SOUNDS awful. How does that man sell records?
The closet is now sealed. Two coats of paint later. Feel free to come over tomorrow and help me wire the light.
Post a Comment