babinscreams

The past six weeks have been some of the most intensive in my life. With an early July date for putting the house on the market looming, work began with paint applied to every surface, inside and out. The results were so inspiring, that new carpet, tile, refinished wood floors, and landscaping became mandatory. New fixtures, knobs and hinges throughout, and the house became something very exciting and creative. I moved in, working with tilers, painters and handymen to fix and improve, all the while thinking about how much Mom wanted to do the very things I was doing, but didn't. What has emerged is a cleaner, pared down, brighter, less confused, more contemporary home than the one my parents lived in. My hands are knicked, pierced, worn, stained and arthritic. The decorative gaps in my wedding band are clogged with spackle. I've destroyed three pair of Levis and two pair of tennis shoes with paint, mud and bleach. A few days ago I was planting roses in the back yard. It was wel