Guess how big my bedroom closet is...the one in the house we moved into twelve years ago. Give up? If you said “zero” you win. The master bedroom has NO closet. Sound familiar?
The little ranch style matchbox resembled a cave when we moved in. Everything that didn’t scurry away got a couple of coats of white paint.
Rob put together a clothing rack, placed it against the wall and named it “closet.”
The move depleted funds to the point that the remodeling had to wait. The following year brought a broken ankle, three weeks before the really good health insurance with the great deductible kicked in. Sigh. Note to readers. Never drop a wall on your leg. Bad things happen.
Finally, after six long years, the process began.
Instead of replacing the roof, we decided to build a second story. Rob is VERY talented. He came up with this amazing plan and started to work.
The problems came with finishing… and that gnarly two-headed beast…money and time.
For several years I’ve contented myself with pulling into my driveway and gazing at my beautiful shell of a house. When time and money intersected and Rob disappeared upstairs, I’d dance around like a psychotic puppy, delivering tools and attention wherever he might need some.
All has been right the past several weeks, the perfect mesh of time/money intersection. Much has been done upstairs. I’ve painted rooms butter yellow, creamy cappuccino, soothing celery and vivid blue.
One and ½ of the rooms need paint. That’s it. The floors are ready to go down. I can see the checkered flag on the horizon.
I painted my new walk-in closet on Monday. Tonight, I paint my bedroom.
Is it possible that I’ve waited so long I won’t know what to do with my very own closet?