It seems to me that I have said this before: "I am almost done."
Who knew that once stripped of it's furniture, my cozy condo would look so darned drab and dowdy. Not only do I have to repaint the whole thing, which I had counted on, but I also have to replace the floors downstairs. yes, REPLACE.
When someone in the household was a career dancer it made sense to have a sprung living room floor. Perhaps it was not installed to perfection, but it was serviceable. Well, it has to go before we can resell.
DRAT.
Otherwise - my library shelves, the custom made floor to ceiling, room long ones, were yesterday's casualty. Gone gone gone.
-- sigh
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“How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? How do we, humans know when it is time to move on? As with the migrant birds, so surely with us, there is a voice within if only we would listen to it, that tells us certainly when to go forth into the unknown.”
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
