the ordeal of renovations

Slowly but surely I am moving all of my possessions that have been stacked and piled in my old bedroom to my new slightly larger and freshly painted new bedroom. I have a lot of junk. The move is very tedious and tiring, but because I don't want to lose track of where my things go it is a one person job. Not that any of my family members have offered to help, but my parents are busy and everyone (emphasis on the one) else is lazy.

So far I've moved my bed, clothes and most of my books. I won't have moved everything over for another day at least, because I have to find what furniture I want in my new bedroom and then refinish that furniture because I am sick and tired of living in a state of temporariness surrounded by boxes and unfinished furniture. It seems most likely that I will be home for a few more months (at least) and quite possibly until I finish my degree next year (and not that I dislike my family or home, but it's with a heavy heart that I reconcile myself to that fact).

So here is the plan. I have to move as much as I possibly can out of the other bedroom in order to make room for younger sibling. Once all of his junk is moved to the other bedroom then I can concentrate on organizing my own room, which will include the following:

• installation of book shelves and organization of my book collection
• construction and installation of closet organizer
• refinishing furniture (strip, sand, stain)
• selection and "installation" of photographs
• oh, and yes... lots and lots of laundry

Bloody hell. In the meantime I also have to start looking for another job, figure out what the hell is wrong with my laptop and get ready for my three weeks of "intensive" school and continue fending off this sickness that has been lingering in my body for several weeks. This hacking cough is what no one would call attractive.

On a high note wireless internet is blazing fast in this room. That alone justifies the move.

Anyhow, back to the box shuffle.

p.s. tested out Blogger images to post this photo of my painting attire. I admit that I didn't wear the boots, but the old dairy queen apron and shirt came in very handy.