My hair is curly wavy messy, but after my brilliant stylist and friend Brittani gives it a cut she likes to blow dry it straight and it’s so shiny and different that it’s a game I play to see how many days I can leave it that way before I am forced to wash it.

Am I the only one that plays that game?

We’ve lived in this house for about five years I think and today the laundry room light bulb blew out for the first time.  It was tricky to get the globe off to get to the light.  I think it required the help of four people somehow.

With all of my rearranging I have also shifted art from various rooms to other rooms and such nonsense.  (It’s so wild though.  Want a home face lift with ZERO expense?  Just switch a painting from the hall to the living room.  Take down a series of photos from the landing and rearrange them with a couple of pieces from random spots and put them on the wall in the boys’ room and suddenly the space looks fresh and new and nobody spent nothing and yet it feels all like a Fixer Upper episode.)  Anyway, during the art shifting I have been employing the use of my drill.  A drill I have owned for nigh on three years I think.  Did you know (and do all drills have this feature) that there is this little straw-shaped do-hickey at the end of the drill that slides right over the screw so that your screw doesn’t hop off the wall and get lost in the recesses of your floor when you’re just beginning to start the attaching process?  Whatever – don’t tell me EVERYBODY already knows this and no one told me!

Speaking of things that no one has ever told me . . .  I shared this on Facebook this week but it’s so important I am sharing it again.  Yes.  Again.  I used to have an on-again off-again relationship with the library.  But I’ve forever had an off-always relationship with the post office.  It is NEVER open when I go there.  It’s as if they have this tracker on my car and when I pull into the parking lot the lights automatically shut off and the people crouch low behind their stations and everyone holds their breath.  “Is she gone yet?”  And all I ever really want are stamps.  Just stamps.  Sure, sometimes you can buy them at grocery stores.  When you remember.  But I think someone somewhere has been keeping secrets from me.  Big secrets.  Like the fact that you can buy stamps at AMAZON.  For the love.  Which is what I will forever more be doing.

Oh – and another thing that I think maybe someone once told me but I forgot until tonight.  Your KitchenAid shreds cooked chicken like a boss.  (I think this marks the first official time I have ever written the phrase “like a boss”.  I actually hope it is the first time I have ever written it.  And – I hope – the last.)  But seriously.  You should try it.  It’s genius.

There’s a light switch in our home where we all have to use a badminton racket to turn it on and off.  The switch is in a weird place behind a shelf.  A badminton racket, you guys.

The kids were all finishing up their art this afternoon when a shocking and never-before event occurred.  I burst into the room to share the news.  I demanded a moment of silence for what I was about to reveal.  All eyes were upon me and voices were stilled as my children waited to hear my enthusiastic report.  For one brief moment in time – around 3:30 Wednesday afternoon – with the obvious exception of the clothes on our very backs – EVERY ARTICLE OF CLOTHING ALL SIX OF US OWNED WAS CLEAN!  There was NO dirty laundry in our home!!!  We applauded.  We respected the moment for what it was.  We gave it its due.  It was incredible.

Also, at the suggestion of one of the kids, I bought laundry baskets and labeled them (because cute helps every chore) and have been giving the kids the task of folding their own laundry.  Why on earth have I been so slow to the game of kids doing their own laundry??

While enjoying my Instagram feed this afternoon I saw this picture of an adorable kitchen shared.  (And while I love everything about this kitchen, one thing really stood out.)

“A window seat in the kitchen” I said out loud.  To myself.  All alone.  Standing in my own window-seat-less kitchen.

I want a window seat in my kitchen.  I love that!   But right now my kitchen window looks like this:

I looked at the clock.  Hmm.  Dinner ready.  Table set.  Friends arriving for our weekly community group dinner in about fifteen minutes.  That’s the perfect time to create a window seat in my kitchen – who’s with me?

I gathered my troops.  Another announcement – but this time it wasn’t about laundry.  (Where we already had produced dirty clothes anyway.)  I showed them the picture of the window seat from my Instagram friend.

“Guys – I want this.  We have fifteen minutes. I think we can do it.”  And because they’re good kids and they know me so well, they figured going along was far easier than questioning.  They carried tables.  Switched out a desk under the computer.  Shifted stuff.  We all blinked.

And then suddenly we had this little makeshift window seat in our kitchen before any car even pulled in the driveway.

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