Let me confess…I lie like roadkill.
I move stuff because it’s fun to watch him poke and paw through thirteen different cabinets (and that’s just the kitchen, y’all!), muttering unintelligibly, brow furrowed in consternation. This must be what it’s like to be a kid and repeatedly poke mother with an index finger…mom, mom, mom, mom, mom! WHAAATTT?! Never mind.
He’d really have a conniption if I moved furniture. Oh, wait, I did that! I decided my sewing corner needed a little makeover and had the nerve to do it during Clash of the Titans. I’m such a bitch. To be fair, it turned out to be the version with Sam Worthington (sigh) instead of Harry Hamlin so it was tough going for me, let me tell ya. I’m working on re-do day number three, damn Sam’s gorgeously tanned, muscular, sweaty hide.
I managed to consolidate and eradicate and wound up moving a four foot table out, freeing up more work space
space for more fabric. Hubby just huffed and rolled his eyes. I’m telling you, it’s better than crack, y’all!
Now, where to move the sofa…?