donforrester1947 posted: " Her words of affirmation were music to my ears. As she headed to bed, the General said: "It is beginning to feel like home." Actually, I had the same thought throughout the day. Earlier in the evening we took time to enjoy sitting in the up" Carpe Diem
Her words of affirmation were music to my ears. As she headed to bed, the General said: "It is beginning to feel like home." Actually, I had the same thought throughout the day. Earlier in the evening we took time to enjoy sitting in the upstairs living area. The panoramic view of the golf course with hills serving as a backdrop is my favorite view from our home.
On the other hand, our pausing to relax could have been the result of exhaustion. On Thursday the trim carpenters showed up to do an extreme makeover on the upstairs windows. All of the windows, with the exception of the kitchen window, were supposed to be cased craftsman style. For reasons unknown to me, they failed to include the upstairs windows, but I wanted it done.
In order to case the windows, the carpenters had to tear out the sheetrock. The dust from the sheetrock settled over everything. To his credit, the workman attempted to clean the floor near the windows with a wet cloth. I know that only because I walked in as he was finishing. It wasn't good enough to get honorable mention, but at least it was an acknowledgement that he tried.
Yesterday afternoon, I vacuumed the room, and the floor near the windows still looked unacceptable. Consequently, I went to the store and bought a real mop. The General uses a Swifter mop, but it made no appreciable impact on the dust that had settled in hard to get to places.
One thing led to another including the question: "Could we possibly integrate an antique oak table into the room?" The table was still in our garage. Though it had been our intent, we were not able to integrate the table into our primary living area.
We purchased the table from a friend over forty years ago, and the thought of parting with it didn't set well with either of us. Reportedly President Johnson and a member or two from his cabinet had sat around that table at a camphouse in Henly. Actually, that is the back story. My attachment to the table is that I like antiques.
Initially, it was my intent for the upstairs room to be my office. For that matter, it still could, except that I don't really need an office. I work primarily on my laptop. We've only been in the house for a little over two weeks, but the General has already figured out that she doesn't want my laptop on the island in the kitchen.
She even took the initiative to order me a simple small desk without any bells or whistles, including drawers. Of course, she asked my permission to do so. The small desk is somewhere to put my larger computer. The desk hasn't arrived, but yesterday the General suggested that we put the desk in a guest bedroom. I could use it when I needed to and it would be a nice amenity for guests staying in our home. I am good with that.
We are now at the place that there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel. The house is coming together. The General suggested yesterday that we take it room by room and finish one room before we go to another. It was nice for her to be up and about. She has been down for the count for the past two weeks.
The General wants pictures hung and some semblance of order. Though I'm reluctant to show a picture of the upstairs room because it isn't finished, I'm opting to do so. I'm adding a pic or two from downstairs. Furniture is arranged and pictures are in place.
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