And shopping for that took five hours. As far as I am concerned his five-hour absence can t be called a shopping trip. I am clipping magazine pictures of bathroom tiles, window shades and paint colors while he is talking about the height of the crawl space and number of burners in the stove. My ideal kitchen would have a refrigerator, a few cabinets, sink and a microwave. And a phone to order carryout.
Crawl spaces seem to give the bugs a place to get in out of the rain.
Now the site is treeless and a sea of mud. I fail to understand my pioneer when he ventures out with a glimmer in his eye, a chain saw and a truck while I dig deeper into the Martha Stewart Living magazine. I want to know when I can plant my ferns and where the pansies would look best. This pioneer stuff is also beginning to intrude on my laundry one of the few areas of life that I feel totally competent. Now I have to pick up his clothes with a paper towel lots of poison ivy in Davy Crockett s territory and dry everything for twenty minutes on high to kill the ticks.