I know you’ve been waiting with baited breath to see whether the rest of the windows went in. Let me tell you, I had one sleepless night envisioning broken windows everywhere.
We had one disaster, one wrong size, and one oops we forgot, but the other 12 windows went in without a hitch.
I am oh so glad that I’m not the one lifting a hundred pounds of glass up on to the scaffolding—not one of my strengths.
The three windows we need to finish the job are all on order. In about two weeks, they’ll arrive, we’ll schedule install, and then we’ll be ready for the window films.
With any luck, that will all happen before June 24, when the film people show up on my doorstep. Until then we’ve put back the furniture and are enjoying a rustic, tape sunrise in the broken pane.
While it’s hard to tell the difference in the pictures I post, it’s really nice in real life to be looking at the view rather than the strange haze and stripes in the window.
When you have to clear all your papers and piles off the kitchen desk so the guys can install a new window, you get to actually see how nice your desk looks when it’s white and clean.
I’m going to be more selective in what I allow to take up space in this area—yes to pretty boxes and plants, no to junk mail and clipboards.
With the Memorial Day Weekend, we’ve barbecued, played games and enjoyed spending time with Sweet Miss and her fella’ who are visiting for the long weekend.
I’ve never lived by a cemetery and was amazed the first year we moved here to see the graves decorated with flags for the holiday. We planned to stop and take pictures on the way home from the movies yesterday, but several families were gathered around graves of loved ones when we drove up.
It seemed a better choice to let you just picture in your mind small flags and crosses scattered across the hillside in remembrance of those we’ve lost.
Remembering the sweet people I’ve lost and loving those I’m with this holiday.
Happy Memorial Day to you and yours.
Thanks to Mary Kay and Linda for sharing their horrible remodeling experiences. I haven’t had to live with orange wall and explosions—yet. Your pain helped me laugh a little at my own.