Paging Dr. Joanna Gaines…

STAT.  We’re having a Code Shiplap over here.

Hallelujah and praise the Lord, we’re slowly transitioning back to our home after Hurricane Michael stamped his seal of disapproval on it, and we couldn’t be happier or more excited or more pumped or more

S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D.

And it’s not just the logistics of moving back, because that’s a lot.  I mean, just my closet itself.  To quote one of my hub’s cousins after transporting the goods from it after the storm: “I feel like I just relocated an entire Belk’s department store.” And of course I scoffed, “pshaw!,” shortlive-d as it was, as I tripped over a pile of mangled hangers and clothes circa 2009.  (It’s good.  I purged.  I’ll never have the pre-baby body back.  Thanks, kids.  I LOVE y’all.  But y’all could have taken the snacks I fed you in utero with you on your exit.  Just sayin’.)

We’ve lived with my roommates for 5 months and some change now.   Let’s let that sink in:

WE’VE LIVED WITH MY ROOMMATES (in-laws) FOR ALMOST HALF A YEAR.

HALF A DING-DONG YEAR.*

We’re ready to be home (and I know the roomies are ready for their space back, too), so we are fully prepared for the work load that moving back in will encompass.  And while it’s really not that bad, it’s not too easy either, because there are activities that need to be done that involve drills, and screws, and putty, and paint, and all.the.things.Joanna.Gaines.

And we just.can’t.do.it, Captain.

I try.  I try.  And then I make more of a project than there was before.  My husband doesn’t appreciate this special talent of mine either.

For example: our wall paper in our bathroom was damaged during the storm.  Insurance was there and ready and willing to replace the wallpaper with its own dollars, but Betsy.

You know that story If You Give a Mouse a Cookie?  Well, interesting parallel here: If You Give a Betsy a Glass of Wine, she’s gonna want to rip off some wall paper.

(It’s a super cathartic activity, y’all, until…)

Well, that was some stuck on wall paper and it sort of took some sheet rock with it and I don’t know what kind of glue was used on the backing of that paper, but I think it’s the same compound as found in cells of cellulite on the backs of your thighs.  It’s just won’t budge without a fight. But I’ll fight, by golly.  I went to public school and I’m not giving up like that.

So watch me rip, rip, watch me pay, pay.                                                                                        (If you didn’t sing that, try it again.  Thank my barre teacher today that got the tune in my head…)

Because that’s what I did have to give up on that one.

Money money money mon-ay.  Mooon-nay.  (My barre teacher didn’t do that one, though.)

Who would have thought repairing sheet rock would have cost that?  Sorry, hon.

But lemme tell ya something.  I can drill a hole.  My middlest kiddlest needed some new curtains hung, as her birthday gift back in November when we weren’t living at home was having her bedroom re-done.  So, she  got all of the components for said revamp but hasn’t been able to enjoy it, bless it, because we haven’t been at home.  {insert middle-kid issue propaganda here} (It’s okay.  Instead of saving for her college and wedding, we’re saving for therapy…) 

So, today, I was going to put the darn curtains up and END.THE.DRAMA.

And 11 holes later, they’re hanging.  By a thread.

But I did it by golly, by muh-self.  The only drill my husband knows is a football one, and it’s ok, I love him all the same.  He’s awesome at so so many other things and I’m not going to tell all of them here lest some woman tries to come steal him out from under me.  (STOP.  STOP.  Figure of speech, people.)

He’s a real Chip off the old block.  (Joanna I NEED YOU!)

But seriously, Chip and Joanna, if you might happen to read this, come help us.  I’ve seen y’all literally convince a couple to buy a pile of sticks which you two then made into a castle and I just cannot comprehend the aura that must surround you two and I want to touch.it.in.person.  And plus, my son, the babe, LOVES and REQUESTS to watch the “Chip and Jo-Jo” show every.day.  His favorite day is demolition day, too, Chip!  He will help if y’all come over to our “fixer-upper!” The hubs will probably just watch, but he can cook for us!  And do some football drills!

Jo (I can call you Jo, right?):  Come on and help us! Bring the kids; I have a passel, too, that would love to play.  I will watch the baby.  I can change dirty diapers with my toes and eyes closed.  Alan will take Chip golfing and we’ll grill and eat some boiled peanuts.  I’ll do whatever you want…just come help.me.puhleeeeze.! We even have a magnolia tree in our yard (that survived the storm).

And when you come, could you see if Marie Kondo wouldn’t mind coming too?  I’ve got a closet that rivals Belks…

*My in-laws have been awesome and as we go to press, they still haven’t kicked us out…