Upcoming Event, or, Did You Guys Think That Through?

So, we're sitting around watching drywall dry. The guys came back to do a second coat of mud yesterday but were off today while it all cures. We're suspecting they'll sand tomorrow, then pre-paint work on Saturday and cabinet install will start Monday!

In a typically chaotic move, we're having at least six guests over on Saturday. Our entire house is filled with enormous cartons of cabinets and appliances and there will be a team here adding a nice fresh paint-smell to everything. Our driveway is filled with an enormous dumpster. The nice wicker furniture on our front porch is actually balanced atop some of the cartons of cabinetry and one or two of the appliances.

How does it happen that we've got a pile of people coming over when we can barely fit our selves into our domain these days? Well, we got the notice for our semi-annual neighborhood yard sale - always a good time - and we've only got one partially conflicting hockey game, so I signed up (half of us can go to hockey for a while). Then, I realized that I can't reach most of the stuff I'd planned to put out for the next yard sale, due to all the boxes. Fearing we would be the poopiest house on the yard sale map, I called in reinforcements. Our regular yard-sale pals just had their own town sale last week, but two other friends are getting married and combining households - they were thrilled with the prospect of a yard sale and are even starting to cart their duplicates over a day ahead. Epiphany and her clan will also be over, for moral support (a yard sale is always more fun with extras).

So, Chris and I are marinating the better part of a hen house to barbecue. I'll steam some veggies in the microwave to toss with a dressing, we've got assorted bags of chips and dips, and plenty of beer to cover what we might otherwise be lacking. I hope the weather's good because, if it's not, we're all going to be milling about in the approximately twelve square feet of floor space still available downstairs or partying in the now ridiculously large master bathroom.

Bibliofilly? Lady E? Consider yourselves warned.