Boys "Toys" overtaking my home.

Due to the fact that my three daughters are grown up and away from home, I have been abandoned to the clutches of my husband and my son, who relish in both acting 14 at all times. It's like being trapped in a frat house where the boys never go home on weekends. In the past year while managing my mother's home and health I had to let some things "go." I could no longer get my panties in a wad over dishes left in the sink, library books in random locations all over the house and my personal favorite balled up socks taking up residence wherever the boy takes off his shoes. Then to this already minimalized house cleaning schedule, we added a remodel. Here is where I shake my head and wonder what was I thinking?

 This is the clutter that is starting to make me just a little "twitchie". Because really right now there is no "right place" for anything because it will soon be moved, boxed up and reassigned based on the chore of the day.
I have taken to decorating with all the "boy toys" needed to create a remodel.

 This is a LARGE compressor, so much bigger than the "pancake" compressor my husband got last year for Christmas. When the man in your life offers to take on a big project, it may be for the big toys he wants to play with.

 This is the stapler that sinks three inch staples into the floor when powered by the big boy compressor.

 So I've admitted that I have allowed my cleaning standards to relax over the last year, but I still don't like DUST. My kids learned at an early age that if they drew in the dust they would get assigned to clean it up. Until you write in it I can pretend it doesn't exist.

So instead of lamenting my current deconstruction, I'm having fun with it and finding "smiles" wherever I can.

These "smiles" aren't even in the deconstruction zone but the fine dust finds its way into the ducts and gets deposited whenever the heat goes on.

Updated pictures of how the hardwood is expanding across the room. Oh, and by the way, did you know you were supposed to clean your dyson vacuum every six months? Since you can take the vacuum out of the box and go to town with it, who reads the manual? None of this dust would probably bother me except I'm home sick laying on the couch watching each row of hardwood get hammered in while the dust settles into the pores of my face. The only time I move is when the couch has to be adjusted. We planned for me to be at work 12 hours a day so it would be like the "deconstruction fairies" were hard at work and it would be like magic. Stay tuned, next week we do the hallway.