Last weekend, Doug went to California to dive with some friends, so that left me home to entertain myself. (That's always trouble.) Here are the pictures of my sleepless weekend, but be forewarned. We are about to enter an area overflowing with estrogen. Just giving you a heads up.
This was my craft room when we bought the house. I won't even go into detail about how awful that wallpaper was, or how it only came off in little tiny pieces in the diameter of a quarter, or about all of the black soot and dirt that ran down the walls as we were removing the wallpaper. Now do you understand why it took me seven months to go back in there to finish it?
After we stripped the walls, it became a storage room for many (not all) of the boxes that contained my crafty stuff. It was also a great place for a spare bed that was used for a guest bed a couple of times. Doug's parents stayed overnight once or twice, but now there is no room at the inn. Sorry, Grand's. I have to admit, I am sad about that. It was fun to have them over.Doug helped me finish painting and installed a new light fixture. Then he went to bed. We were totally exhausted on Wednesday night, and woke the next day to touch up all of our mistakes. That was when we remembered that we said we would never paint at night again. Oooops. Somebody remind us next time, OK?
Doug left on Thursday morning after the touch-up session, and said, "Have fun putting your shelves together!" You know that it isn't a good idea to do things by yourself when you pull out the instructions and on the very first page is this:
Right about then, my thought was, "Great. This is gonna be fun." What occurred after reading the instructions can only be described as comical. Good thing I didn't take pictures of me pushing the shelves against the wall, and then bracing myself against the opposite wall and using my feet to push the shelves together, or all of the other ridiculous positions I had to get into in order to finish this. 
I could hardly move the boxes with the parts to the shelves in them, never mind moving the finished product. I eventually got it finished, and was able to lift the top off of the floor and onto my knees where I then shifted my hands to lift it the rest of the way. This is what happened then:
One small dent in order to put up my shelves all by myself was definitely worth it. I actually expected much worse, like being trapped underneath them until someone found me days later, or at least until Miriam eventually walked home from school. Then it was time for the easy part: the desk. That was a total breeze. 2 screws, 2 legs, a brace, and 2 clamps to the shelving. Piece of cake, I could do that with one hand tied behind my back, and I did, just because I could. Ok, maybe not, but boy, was I relieved when I got to that part.
Then comes the yucky part: finding all of my stuff that now has to be put away somewhere in this space. It took me a couple of days to hunt down all of the boxes, sort through it all to eliminate excess "crap", and then organize it on the shelves. Take a good look, it will never be this neat again. This leopard knows her spots, and they don't change easily. I have to admit, I still haven't located my paints or some of my knitting stuff, but I guess that gives me something to do, right? What you can't see, is that all of my hair stuff is in the closet, where nobody can see it, and I can access it when I decide that I need to change my color on a whim. (That happens a couple of times a year, it will be nice to have it all in one place.)
One small dent in order to put up my shelves all by myself was definitely worth it. I actually expected much worse, like being trapped underneath them until someone found me days later, or at least until Miriam eventually walked home from school. Then it was time for the easy part: the desk. That was a total breeze. 2 screws, 2 legs, a brace, and 2 clamps to the shelving. Piece of cake, I could do that with one hand tied behind my back, and I did, just because I could. Ok, maybe not, but boy, was I relieved when I got to that part.Then comes the yucky part: finding all of my stuff that now has to be put away somewhere in this space. It took me a couple of days to hunt down all of the boxes, sort through it all to eliminate excess "crap", and then organize it on the shelves. Take a good look, it will never be this neat again. This leopard knows her spots, and they don't change easily. I have to admit, I still haven't located my paints or some of my knitting stuff, but I guess that gives me something to do, right? What you can't see, is that all of my hair stuff is in the closet, where nobody can see it, and I can access it when I decide that I need to change my color on a whim. (That happens a couple of times a year, it will be nice to have it all in one place.)
My sewing machine cabinet is just inside the door, and I am seriously contemplating a new paint job on it. I think it will have to wait, though. I just got it in here, I am not ready to carry it back outside yet. Having my crafty stuff so accessible has been wonderful, and I have been busy enjoying my new space. I have realized that I need some more projects, because this is the first thing I did when everything was in it's place:
That's right, I named my space. My first thought was "The Chick's Coop", then there was "The Girl's Grotto", but then I hit the jackpot! If you think that "The Lady's Lair" is a joke, think again. Let's just see what happens the first time a man invades my space. Should be interesting, and good for a picture or two. Think 'black widow'.
Because I didn't want my family to feel neglected, I named their spaces, too:
Notice that Miriam is also a huge fan of Rock Band. We are a family of wannabe's. Birds of a feather, and all that. Not to be left out, I labeled Doug's space, as well.
His room in the basement, (not to imply that we have sent him to the dungeons) is always busy with something. He named it "The Man Cave", and we are to keep our hands off. There is usually a set of scuba regs being rebuilt, or some other project going on down there, and I try not to get involved. Too much testosterone for me. I nearly suffocate from it. At least I have my own space to recuperate now.
