I just want to start by saying, this is not the "layout" I had planned. I can't seem to figure out how to add photos mid post. I'm going to have to really try to work out that kink because it's kind of annoying.
So it's day number 2 and I wondered what will I have to blog about today, after much consideration I decided I would talk about my basement. You know where the "magic" (laundry) happens. About 5 1/2 years ago we made a decision to move. In whirlwind, we decided to buy a house. We looked at like a bazillion houses (and yes, it's a number). Each of the houses I loved had finished basements. What really sold me on this house was the basement and the fenced in yard. The basement was finished to perfection. It looked so cozy and comfy. I remember standing there closing my eyes, dreaming of my family snuggling on a couch, watching movies, and eating popcorn, actually I think I may have even smelled the popcorn in my imagination. If you've seen my house, it wasn't the kitchen that I fell in love with since it's super tiny. Anyway, back to the basement, we had literally lived here like 5 minutes or maybe it was two weeks, this was back in the olden days when Scott worked first shift and left the house before the sun rose. One early morning, I went to the basement to start some laundry. As I entered the unfinished part, there IT was...I'll never forget...it's etched in my brain. There in the middle of the floor was the biggest mouse I've ever seen. I know INSANE, right? Well I did what any mom would do, I screamed like a little girl. I mean, this mouse could attack my little boy, it would have had to have been raised from the dead and I do believe in miracles. Anyway, it was like 5:45am or something like that since I didn't know what to do, I screamed and paced. Then I did what any rational adult would do, I called my Daddy. I had a vision of him jumping in his car immediately coming over and scooping up the dead mouse in one swoop, you know it's logical to think that your daddy would drive 45 minutes just to save you at 6:00 am. First of all, my dad was not a happy camper and secondly, he would not come to save the day. He told me I had to pick it up and throw it away. OMG, how dare he. Anyway, I waited and waited because I thought maybe it would take care of itself. In my state of panic, I did think about waking up the neighbor but I didn't want to seem crazy, I mean they barely knew me. I finally worked up enough courage to throw out the mouse. I screamed and screamed the whole time I tried to pick up this creature. Yes, I know I was so brave. That whole little incident has ruined my LOVE for the basement. We have spent some time down there but it's rare that I'll suggest heading down. Once in a while I'll suggest that we should really start using the basement and when it comes down to it, it's hard people...I mean do you understand that 5 1/2 years ago there was a dead mouse found in this basement. When we do go down there the kids always want to turn off the lights to make it dark like a movie theater and my answer is always "NO!" Such a party pooper I am. Somehow I managed to spend 5 months training for my first half marathon on the treadmill in the basement. I would rise early in the morning and slowly, creep down the stairs and then sprint to the treadmill (I did consider this my warm-up). When I was on the treadmill, I would forget about the mouse. The time has come again when I need to evaluate the usage of the basement, it's an amazing extra space. Now if someone told me this story I would tell them to "put on their big girl panties and get over it"...I think it's time that I take my own advice. What do you think?