Ah, pickle juice.

Our house has been on the market since March.

Which means two things:

1. My house has been clean for 5 months. I know. Yay me.

2. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it together.

I mean, really.

I was wondering this even before lightning hit our backyard a week ago and fried the power to the whole front of our house. (It's always fun to leave THAT note taped to the door for a showing..."Sorry about the lack of lights in the bathroom, laundry room, and front bedroom. Trust us when we say it looks nice!")

And then the Munchkin dropped a full jar of pickle juice on the (new) carpet. Right in front of the front door. (Because she wanted to drink it and knew I wouldn't let her so she was, therefore, hiding from me. Of course.)

We're going to be here forever.

Upstaged.

We are frantically "staging" our house so that we can put it on the market.

Notice I didn't say "sell it" because, well, who are we kidding?

Anyway.

Part of staging means repainting every single room in our house.

And some furniture.

Saturday, me and my back were still at odds, but we were getting along well enough to help paint one room and spray paint a dresser. What was once an off white and gold reminder of a bygone era was now Pottery Barn white. *chorus of angels singing*

For all of one day.

Which is when Thing 1 christened it. With charcoal drawing pencils.

sigh.

Oh well.