I Give My Husband Permission To Just Walk Away Next Time

So we have that appraiser coming to look at the house at 9AM Monday. I'd said that I needed to desperately clean the house and I most likely would spend the weekend up to my elbows in Pine Sol and Magic Erasers.

I did not.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that instead of cleaning I hired a maid to do all the heavy work while I had a massage and stocked up on bon bons. But you thought wrong. Here's the timeline of events for my weekend.

Thursday: Phone call from appriaser to set up 9AM Monday appointment.

Friday: Decide to finish the basement because a finished basement would add value to the house.

Rest of Weekend: Work on basement. Except for that 2 hour meeting on Saturday morning, church on Sunday morning, and church that evening. Yeh, they cut into worktime like you can't imagine.

So that whole cleaning thing didn't happen. In fact, not only did the house not get cleaned, it got trashed even more. We are now living in a construction zone, sprinkled with dog hair and a sink full of dishes. We've had the materials to do the basement for a while, so it was just a matter of actually doing it. And what better time than the present? With an appraiser coming? Deadlines are the best incentives ever.

The good news is that the basement has walls and a ceiling now. The bad news is that it's not finished, nor will it be. I'm hoping we get credit for trying at least. (Right? Yes? Please?) But even if not, the basement is much farther along that it's been for the past 6 years.

We worked hard all weekend. Sam, Josh, & I did all the work ourselves. Josh worked harder than either of us adults, putting up half a wall alone while Sam & I attended that meeting. That boy, at 14, amazes me.

To think that I was so concerned about cleaning makes me laugh uncontrollably. It's borderline hysteria, actually, because I know that I still have cleaning to do and not only am I running of time, but I have run out of steam. (I nodded off in the shower. You've gotta be tired to do THAT.) I wake each morning with not-so-subtle reminders that I'm no longer 20.

The next time I decide to tackle a massive project on a tight deadline, Sam has premission to laugh at me. And then walk away.

This is the kind of stuff that you look back on and laugh about in your old age, right?