Sweet, sweet freedom and refinishing a table

Yesterday was the official move-out date for sis and her family. It took the insurance company three and a half months to decide that they did not start their own fire and that the house and everything in it will be rebuilt, replaced, or refurbished.

To be clear, I love my family. But it has been a stressful summer living together. A of all, it's like having any other roommates - you do things differently and it just gets on the nerves. Secondly, nobody had the space they were used to or the freedom to walk around in their underwear (well, the kids did it often). C of three, everybody was all up in everybody else's business because of the proximity, and because there are simply a lot of issues to be dealt with; not the least of which has been hoping the insurance comes through and, meanwhile, jumping through their hoops.

So today the rest of the boxes will be picked up and brought to the new rental townhouse that the insurance is *finally* paying for. And I start my massive cleaning campaign. The real joy of it is that things won't become sticky, smelly, or just dirty within hours of cleaning. My counter will not constantly be a sickening combination of spilled milk, gooey cereal bits, cracker crumbs, and some kind of glue-like substance or another. There will not be handprints on my doors. I will be picking up after myself and the hubs, and no one else. Glorious.

Quasi-related is the clearing out of my grandma's house, which works out nicely for people who have recently lost everything in a fire, as well as for other family members who have inherited a penchant for hoarding. I always feel a little guilty when I go over there because I always come back home with something, like I'm pilfering things out of someone else's home. Because that's pretty much what I'm doing. But grandma doesn't need the stuff. And by adopting some of it, I'm reducing the world's trash and saving money for myself. Right? For example:


It was my mom's job as a girl to keep this table dusted. Now I've taken it home to become a plant stand because I HAVE NO HOUSE PLANTS, which is just ridiculous and unhealthy and I've vowed to change that, and now I don't have to buy a plant stand.

I started sanding it yesterday - by hand - so you can see the difference between the bare wood and the old, scratched, syrupy-looking finish. I have never refinished anything myself, so we'll see how this goes. Frankly, I may be lucky to get past sanding, what with all the nooks and crannies of the legs and the various under-parts that might have to be removed.


So now that my house and time are once again mine, I feel like I owe it to myself to go on a crafting binge and (once again) put the job search off for a spell. My God, I've had a lot of *reasons* to put off getting a job. Coincidence?