The day after Thanksgiving, Pa and Adam were scheduled to work on our house. Because this tiny little house needs all the help it can get.
Plan A: Put lights in the office/dressing room ceiling. Rejected by the crew because the light in the bedroom occasionally flickers, and this is a more interesting problem to fix.
Plan B: Fix the flickering bedroom light. Great, ready to go. Hon, you won't mind if we shut off power to 1/2 of the house for a few hours? Oh, wait, let me just take this call. . .
Plan C: Sears duct-cleaning service is on the way. Move a whole lotta furniture off of heating vents. Scramble to re-hide newly exposed Christmas presents. Attempt to act casual while doing so. OK. Duct cleaning is a go. Hey, that enormous vacuum is really loud.
Plan D: Get the drool machine out of the house so he can stop trying to drown out the duct guys with his own shouts. Go to Lowe's, buy paint for the needy children at the Academy. Wow. It takes a long time to mix up 7 gallons of paint. I'll be over here with this Oprah magazine.
Plan E: I'm hungry. Me too. Me three. Waaaah! Lunch.
Plan F: OK, so what were we going to do? Something in the kitchen, right? Because we haven't left this room yet.
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