Displaced

We are finally, FINALLY getting our bathroom walls re-done and because of the strong smells (holy cow, have you ever smelled Kilz??) and the fact that our bathroom is covered in dropcloths and sheetrock powder, E.B. and I have been staying at my parent’s house for a few nights.

The older I get the more I hate being away from my own home. I covet my own bed, being Lord and Master of the thermostat, and staying up until odd hours if I so please. Like now? It’s a little past midnight and I am having to type as quiet as possible so as not to disturb anyone and that’s pretty hard to do considering I am a “tap the keys as hard as possible” typist. And? I have to wait my turn to use the computer here. *shudder*

We will be back in our home tomorrow and although our host and hostess have been more than gracious and accommodating, there’s just no place like home. (*THIS from a girl who cried from homesickness after she was married and living in a new place for the first time. I’ve obviously come a LONG way.)