This is nightmare-inducing stuff—stripping the kitchen in advance of the flooring guys showing up in an hour to lay a new vinyl floor.
It’s a huge room as kitchens go and naturally we filled it to capacity, like you do. It’s the heart and soul of this house. It’s my safe haven and the source of my creativity (and some truly masterful culinary crash ‘n burns).
There’s furniture on the deck and me shouting at the birds swarming the feeders… do NOT poop on anything. Stuff in the bedrooms, stuff in the living room. It’s a small house, made even smaller when stuff that doesn’t belong suddenly occupies space.
It took backbreaking effort to clear it. It will take that, in addition to some elbow grease to tidy up the inevitable dust bunnies and greasy residue, to put it all back.
I could use a nice, strong fella—maybe two—to help out. Applications being accepted.
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- Love these guys
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- Hmm, might do, yes indeed
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About Nya Rawlyns
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul. It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true. Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy and historical romances before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or two pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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