The outside of the house is finished. Cleaned, prepped, and painted and I have to say I’m very happy with how it turned out. The company we used has a great attention to detail and, as anyone who knows me can attest, I can be a little bit anal.
It’s fresh and pretty and feels so brand new. But now I’m starting to hate the inside now! When I walk up the pristine front steps to the beautiful front door I’m hit with conflicting emotions. It’s like the house is new again, after almost ten years. Yet when I open the door and step inside I’m struck with the urge to run back outside.
My husband and I repainted the entire first floor just over two years ago. Here’s the thing. My daughter, son-in-law and baby grandson moved in shortly thereafter. Temporarily.
Now, I love having them here. I’m close to my daughter and get along well with my SIL. I know I’m lucky to have easy access to my delicious grandson. But extra people mean extra mess. Extra stuff. Extra pets! I guess it’s beginning to get to me, lol.
I went on a cleaning tear today. Nothing too drastic, just dusting and getting rid of some clutter. I feel a little better but I wish it was cooler out.
Then I could just stay outside.