We all have those times were it looks like a firecracker literally exploded in our house. Most of you that feel my pain have children, umpteen animals, a husband, or maybe a few teenagers stashed around. I have none of the above but its guaranteed my house is in hazmat status.
True story: Maggie has learned to open my screen door and escape. One night last week I had just finished eating dinner to find the back screen door cracked open. I set my (empty) plate down on the table to go find my escape artist. Two days later I realized I had forgotten to go back and pick up my plate after capturing said escape artist. Y’all, that’s nasty. TWO DAYS. There is a good chance I am going to be put on an episode of Hoarders before this market comes and goes.
Don’t act like you don’t empty your gym bag on your dining table resulting in Thursdays outfit laying out for all the world to see… on Monday.
Scrap wood is the new floor accessory – but only if accompanied by paint, glue gun, junk mail, and four day old water bottles.
Sometimes I wash paint brushes and cut up strawberries at the same time. Kidding. Kind of.
I have already run into that desk sixteen thousand times – I should move it elsewhere to paint… but free space is as accessible as the Jonas Brothers. Oh, and don’t mind Murphy – he's giving the stink eye because he stinks. Really. Smells awful. Needs a bath but hey, so do I kid! Get in line.
And thus, I bring you to a hoarders paradise…
My right eye is twitching. The junk as overfloweth.
And if all of that wasn’t enough I added a car load to the madness. These is all my Warrenton finds plus a few. I might have my work cut out for me…