Which experience actually made doing the taxes seem fun by comparison, come to think of it...
Anywhoo, I'd be going to bed to dream sweet dreams of paying the IRS too much money, but instead I have to wait up and hide Easter eggs. I had assumed that everyone here was too old for such shenanigans, but apparently Rachel and Susie still want to get up early on Easter morning and put way too much work into finding a couple of handfuls of jelly beans. The thrill is in the chase, I guess, and so I am staying up to find places to hide the eggs that won't endanger anyone.
Because, remember? Most of the kitchen stuff has been relocated to the dining room/living room, in this townhouse formerly known as spacious. Piles of it, on the dining room hutch, in front of the dining room hutch, in the den off the living room...either this is going to be the most impossible egg hunt ever or the easiest (if I go with my idea of just leaving them all behind the couch).
You see that blue drink cooler in the picture there? That's not even ours - it belongs to the Boy Scout troop. Mulch Madness is still haunting me.
Have I mentioned we have people coming over tomorrow? All this junk is almost freeing, as there is no way I can clean up adequately for our guests. I mean, I'm not even going to try. So there's that.