Pizza Hut House

Went to play at Miz Dee's house today. I arrived while she was out getting lunch so I sat in her driveway and sketched. Waiting is always an appropriate time to sketch.

I whipped out the little red emergency sketchbook (kept in my purse just for emergent sketching situations) and drew the odd little detached garage across the street. The house has this same roof line. Dee later told me the neighborhood refers to this house as "The Pizza Hut House."

We played in Dee's guest room closet today, cleaning things out in anticipation of swapping her office and guest bedroom. Dee was ripping and snorting, tossing and tossing and tossing. She was ready to be shed of stuff.

She tossed some vintage linens into the yard sale pile, and I, in a rare fit of retentiveness, told her she should probably keep those. Gasp!

Holy Cow! I don't know what came over me. I don't remember ever recommending somebody keep something when they were bound and determined to get rid of it. I must have been getting tired.

I could not, however, convince her to part with the seashell collection or the pile of old curtain rods. Sigh. Ya win some, ya lose some.

Final tally: Almost barren closet, one big bag of trash, HUGE pile to go to a friend's yard sale. Yay!

I started chuckling at one point and Dee asked why. I told her usually you can't beg, borrow or guilt a friend to come over and help clean out closets. I actually *volunteered* to help her do hers and enjoyed every moment immensely.

I ain't right.