I’ll take this opportunity to bore all three of you loyal readers with the details of my weekend. Yesterday, as mentioned before, I cut the french door down but only fit it in the opening upstairs—hanging a door correctly is one of those jobs that sounds easy in theory but is extremely difficult in practice, something that demands a whole afternoon and a twelve-pack of beer. So instead I cleaned up the blue room and continued replacing the kickplates in the office, getting them all installed by nightfall. Jen and I were wiped out from both fambly and house, so we conked out early, sleeping through a standing invite for dinner with Todd and Heather. (Sorry, guys.)

Today I started in the office by cleaning up the framing for the windows, which had taken some pretty serious damage from the roof leak, plugging the hole, and then stripping the wallpaper from the ceiling. Let me just tell you, folks, there is no greater calling in life than standing on a ladder with scraper in hand, spraying hot water next to a live electrical fixture, all because some idiot decided that covering over cracked plaster with wallpaper was a good idea.