Slow but Steady

Today an old family friend texted me to tell me he was looking back on my blog and couldn't believe I've been in Rhode Island for two years.  This good friend shall remain nameless because he is sort of neurotic and worried about who might know he is reading my blog.  He is also rather rude because he immediately began to ridicule me for the amount of destruction I have already kicked up in my new house.  I had to admit to him that every word was true, and that even if I wanted to move, I wouldn't be able to talk another sucker into buying my trash heap right now.  I started thinking about what I was doing in Idaho right before I left for Rhode Island (forgive the bad selfie.  I am not my teens):

And guess what?  I'm in the middle of it here.  I sometimes feel overwhelmed because literally everything in this house needs to be updated.  I wonder why I can't just sometimes be normal and either buy a new construction home, or else buy something that's already been renovated.  However, I'm too cheap to pay for something that's been renovated, and can't stand new construction homes.  Plus, there's a satisfaction in seeing something transform underneath my rather skilled hands (and yes, I do say so myself).  So although I can't stand my horrible rotting fence and the huge vegetation pile leftover from my yard cleansing last summer...

and though I detest that my three season porch still has a pile of garbage underneath it, I have to remind myself that I've hauled away tons of garbage already and am slowly getting the jungle that dominated the entire yard tamed with borders and mulch, and almost have flowers I started from seed ready to be planted:

I also have to remember that the idiotic half walls Maria and her amigos built on top of cheap ass tile that wasn't sealed properly...

Have been nearly replaced with a lovely new storage room that Jared and I built with our bare hands.  Here's the front and back...

And although the lovely wet bar and mural of what I am guessing is part of the Azores is still a part of my life...

Every trace of Maria and her packrat nonsense is gone from my finished front room:

So go ahead and laugh nameless family friend.  I'll have the last laugh in the end.  And for the umpteenth time:  So long Maria.  You still don't get your house, your pipe, or the VFW hat I just found in the attic back... so don't even ask...