Dream house achieved

I finally have the house of my dreams. It’s perfect: Soft off-white walls, light tan, cushioned carpeting in the bedrooms, pristine oatmeal colored ceramic tiles in the heavy-wear areas and lustrous parquet flooring warms the living room atmosphere.
The house will remain perfect – as long as no one eats, cooks or drinks anywhere near the kitchen and dining room ceramic floors that act like a dirt magnet. It will be perfect as long shoes with the least bit of dirt come off before daring to crush the carpet in the bedrooms where our shoes are stored. It will be perfect as long as nothing touches, brushes or stains the off-white walls.
It’s just what I always thought I wanted: The light, airy look.
Good thing we had the kids I wanted before we had the house I wanted, or we never would have gotten around to four kids. The child-resistant house I didn’t want came with dark paneling, variegated brown, sculptured carpeting that hid every shade of dirt and a new vinyl floor that never seemed to get dirty.
Although I made it quite clear I did not want ugly brown, dark paneling, I got it anyway. It came with the house. I may not have liked it, but I wasn’t about to tear out brand new paneling and carpeting a month after purchasing a newly built house. On reflection I am mighty glad it was there. It certainly saved a lot of fussing, fuming and perpetual cleaning.
A couple years ago when the last child was nearing the end of her years at home, my husband began stripping the house and redoing it the way I thought I wanted it. He is now nearing the completion of the second phase of that remodeling.
The other evening, he stood in the door way to the bedroom, holding a rich, dark chocolate brownie, talking about what he still had to do.
I looked at that brownie. I looked at the marvelous, light colored carpeting, and envisioned it with ground-in spots of chocolate crumbs.
“You better eat that brownie where its crumbs won’t get on the carpet.”
He looked down at the floor he had just spent forever installing. He walked over to the area with the ceramic tile.
I would never have said that before. We had a house full of children who were allowed to trail a ton of crumbs across the carpeted living room. I walked down our off-white painted hall and looked in on the comeback kid who has reclaimed his old bedroom. “We no longer have a child friendly house,” I announced shaking my head in disbelief.
He knew what I was talking about. He grew up in this house when it was easy to clean and keep clean.
It was perfect for energetic little boys who loved to roll in the mud, a little girl who wasn’t particularly worried about sweeping her room and a husband who disregarded all the guidelines for tidiness when he was working on a project.
Now that I have the perfect house, he needs the perfect workshop, a precisely organized garage and a place to take off his work shoes and clean up before entering the perfect house. So much work to do. It was a lot easier during the haphazard days when the paneled walls overflowed with children.

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