We didn’t make it down to the National Building Museum like I hoped (shocked, right?). It was raining, there’s plenty we need to do here, and the nap that Loren was scheduled to take around 11 didn’t actually start until 12:30, which means he was down until 2:45. That’s great in itself, but it doesn’t leave much time for sight-seeing before Natalie gets home. So yeah, in we stayed.
We really only have a week or two before we’re planning on being completely out of here for the move. It certainly doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t look that way either, mostly because that lone car-load we moved made almost no difference in the amount of stuff we have here still.
With Loren finally up from his nap, I decided I would work to take down some floating shelves in his room, as well as some pictures around the rest of the house. I might not have actually taken any of it out of the house, but it being down at least helps to make it feel a little different.
Of course, most of what I took down was previously held-up by heavy-duty wall anchors. And while they’re great for mounting things to the wall, they also leave serious holes in their wake once taken down – so out came the joint compound and mud knife.
Loren was exceptionally patient with the giant baby-magnet that is an open five-gallon bucket of joint compound. The early instructions of “DO. NOT. TOUCH.” were actually followed. He stood there barking at it for a while, but he didn’t touch. Loren eventually tossed a few dried bits – the ones that pop off when you open the lid – back into the bucket, but that was as close to it as he got.
Instead, Loren took to moving around this random box for a while as I was pulling down pictures and shelves. It’s now in Natalie’s closet – I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of finding it later.
He found me later, mid-mud application. I tell you, it’s not easy using a footstool with this guy occupying the first rung and firmly clasped to your pants the whole time.
And for a while he did pretty well not touching my handy work. Until he did. The wet joint compound on the wall was out of his reach when he was standing, but not when he was on the step-stool.
The baby finger imprints in each of the wall holes made it an open-and-shut case.
And after washing his hands in a hurry, Loren still had a little of the the guilty evidence on his fat fingers.
I also learned that trying to hold a toddler’s hand still in order to take a picture of it is borderline impossible.
We didn’t get much done today, but every little bit gets us closer to the move.