The much-anticipated closing date of June 17th came and went without a closing. Without even an update from the closing agency, as a matter of fact. Frustrating!! The last update we received said that the closing agency was waiting on a water bill from Mayberry. Why on earth something like that has to hold up a closing is beyond me....can't they email or fax the dang thing in?
So, anyway, I've had to amuse myself in other ways. I went through a couple of paint sample books and picked out tentative colors for the living room, dining room and hall--those will all be the same color, for simplicity. I've also got a good idea of the colors for Tank's room, the master bedroom and the area over the tile in the hallway bath. Due to budget constraints, we'll leave the pink basket-weave tile that is on the hallway bath floor for now, so I chose a smoky light grey for those walls. Not much else will go with pink and not make me want to vomit. I am not a pink person. Well, technically, I guess I am a pink person. But you know what I mean.
Tank's room will most likely be a light blue. I am still thinking over how to "do" his room. Here on Gilligan's Island, his room is done in fish, with shades of blue and green being predominant. His room at Uncle Todd's Cabin just has the vinyl wall decals of Classic Pooh, which he is really too old for. Sigh. I guess those will have to go. I'd love to maybe do a tree in one corner of his room, either here or in Mayberry. I think it would be so cute to do that and maybe bunk beds, to feel like a tree house, almost. I'll keep thinking about it and we'll see what happens.
Because I don't have the luxury of taking paint samples to the Taj and holding them up, I have used the photos I took to see how different colors look. Because the hardwood floors have such a gold tone to them, a lot of cooler colors just didn't look right to me. I found some warmer ones that I thought worked well with the floor. The final test will be to take the paint samples to the Taj and see how everything looks together in person.
In other news, I got my Mother's Day present this week. It's late, but it was worth it. Shawn got us both Kindles, so I'm off the hook for Father's Day. Woo-hoo. I wasn't sure I'd like a Kindle, since I am a book nut and I thought I'd miss the heft and feel of a real book. To my surprise, it was really easy to adjust to reading just one page, instead of having two opened in front of me. We got covers for the Kindles, which I recommend, because it does help it feel more like a traditional book. I loaded some free classics and have plowed halfway through Anne of Green Gables so far. Is it just me, or was Anne a lot less annoying when I was a kid? I mean, holy crap. I thought it would be a hoot to re-read something from childhood, but jeez...Anne's a total nutburger. By Chapter Two, I'd had it up to HERE with her imaginative, free-spirited nature and thought she just needed a knot yanked in her. And all the talk of "bosom friends." Yark. Guess I'll stick to my gory crime novels.
Oh, and I almost forgot! Oh My Flippin Stars...there is apparently a very disturbing new genre of literature. I stumbled on it when I was checking out the free Kindle downloads in Amazon: erotica written by women for women. I was extremely intrigued by this phenomenon. I mean, I always understood the existence of romance novels...teenaged girls waiting for their ONE TRUE LOVE and down-trodden housewives trying to remember why they wanted to get married in the first place kept those things flying off the shelves. Side note: have you ever read one of those things? All the women have enormous eyes. There must be a tribe of women out there who look like Twisted Whiskers chicks. But, erotica? Really? If I wrote an "adult romance" novel, it would go something like this:
"He strode in the door, blocking the sun's light with his massive, muscular body. Graciella trembled, the dishwater dripping from her shaking hands. Who was this man? What dangerous plan brought him here? In two long strides he crossed the room and took the dishcloth roughly from her hands. 'You've got it all wrong,' he growled, 'Glasses and silverware get washed before the pots and pans.'
Graciella moved aside and with tremendous effort, found her voice. 'Wh-wh-who are you?' she gasped.
'Hungwell,' he replied. 'Studley Stacked Hungwell. I'm here to do the dishes.'"
Not exactly Pulitzer Prize material, huh? Oh, well. The longer this real estate closing drags on, the more time I have to work on my new career as a writer of Chick Lit Erotica.
God help us all.