Pass the Bottle

For the first time in my life, I feel like I need anxiety medication.  Ok, that's a lie.  For the first time in a few months...and this is why.

Yes, that is a for sale sign.  We will see what happens.  There's another house in old town that we have our eye on, hence the sign in my yard.  The sign that causes me major stress, keeps me awake at night and makes me drink mass quantities of wine.  But what else is new. 

For the last week or so, we've been doing a few things around here to get it ready.  It was built in 1930, so it's not perfect, but I am trying my damnest to make it that way.  Living in plastic gets old fast.  Real fast.

The hot plate of tamales on the back porch is always comic relief though.  Gotta love a worker that's not afraid to bring his own hot plate to the job site. 

Wish me luck.  Or just wish me serenity to stay sane during this process.  Change like this is scary.  And yes, I'll be doing some major pimping of my bungalow around here, in hopes that I can soon change the name of the blog to Pimp My Big Ass Bungalow.