Not five minutes after coming "home" for the first time yesterday afternoon, I opened the car door to unload the bazillion cans of paint we had just bought, and one fell right out onto the driveway.
A big pink splot. (Well, precisely, "Watermelon Slice.) I am my house and my house is me. It looks like all my dreams.
It was an awesome day. Exhausting, but definitely a red-letter day for House of Browne. We met the sellers at the closing, and they were....very unhappy people. I felt badly for them...until we got home. The house was filthy. The fridge was dirty, there was spilled rice in the cabinets, the same horrible smoker-smell, dirt everywhere and, delightfully, a cigarette butt in the toilet. (Patrick and I laughed about that for a long time. "We left our buyers wine, bread and salt, pictures of the house, and all kinds of Wonderful Life wishes. What did our sellers leave us? A butt.")
It doesn't matter, though, because by the time we were home an hour, Patrick had hung a new American flag from the front doorway (despite my minor protest that the new neighbors might think we're Republicans!) Both girls rooms had been started - we worked as Team Pink and Team Blue. We also got our bedroom done (that blue is called Ocean Sigh - sorry, Linda Rondstadt.) The colors are very vibrant - maybe a little too vibrant, but since Patrick has declared the color of the hallways "Sneeze," we had do something drastic to eliminate all of the greyish-greenish snot-hued sadness from the house.
We played the Mix CD I had made as we all worked together, singing along to Glee and the Barenaked Ladies, and my parents came over with pizza for dinner. Across the street neighbors came by with their two little girls (Yay! First grade and 4 years old) and we quit around 10, exhausted but very satisfied.
Of course, I was up at 5, too excited to get back home and start all over again.