My house needs work. This is no secret. The bathroom door doesn’t latch (thanks, Evan, for locking yourself in that room when you were two), the handles on both screen doors are broken and don’t latch (I see a theme here…), Dylan’s room is missing the door knob (definite theme-age going on), there’s a giant hole in the living room ceiling thanks to Mike falling through said ceiling (and allowing an old NKOTB night shirt to come drifting down), and let’s not forget the rotting floor in the kitchen.
Yes, I know that it needs work. And yes, I’m putting it all out there. Hello, this is my house. And it sucks.
But sometimes, you just have to laugh at all the little problems.
Like, for example, how I’m going to miss the water stains on the bedroom ceiling when I finally get the ceiling replaced. Shortly after we moved in, Mike and I spent an evening picking out the faces that we could see in one of the stains. There’s an old man, a gorilla, Abe Lincoln, and Bart Simpson up there. Turn 90 degrees, and there’s a whole new set of profiles.
The other day, I was laying in bed and looking at the ceiling, saying good night to my friends on the ceiling, when I noticed something else that is up there.
I thought, ‘no, that can’t possibly be what I think it is. I’m seeing things.’
Then I realize that yes, it IS what I think it is, there is no unseeing what has already been seen. So I turn 90 degrees and look again and…
Yep. There’s a giant vagina on my bedroom ceiling.
I’m thinking that the ceiling will be the first to go… I can deal with the rest, but a giant vagina isn’t the last thing that I want to see every night before I go to bed. *sigh*