My little Barbie condo looks more like a construction zone this week than a humble abode. Shocking, I know. (What? You were picturing me, all organized, methodically painting and creating a piece at a time in my garage, then pricing it and stacking it somewhere in an orderly fashion? Ha! The garage is officially full, and my little dining room has now become command central; my newly designated area for pricing stuff.)
Seriously, poor Moose doesn't know what the heck is going on, what with the painted chairs lined up along the back wall of the cozy living room, and vintage crystal stemware stacked all about. He mostly lays in the entry way where he feels a bit more secure, and looks around like he can't quite decide if we're prepping for a blow out cocktail party for the Obama's, or if we're getting ready to move again.
He can relax come mid morning Friday, when the crazy-ness will all have been moved out of the living room and we'll begin set up for the big show this Saturday. Till then, he'd be well advised stay out of the hard hat area or he's likely to find himself with a vintage bow on his neck and a price tag.
