Grown Ups Live Here. (In other words, we hung curtains.)

Over the past week I've been on a bit of a house project kick.  Okay, I've been on a big house project kick, the likes of which I haven't experienced since I was eight months pregnant with my third child and decided to refinish our bedroom suite.

Neighbors must have shaken their heads when they saw me, dust mask and safety goggles donned, as I bent over my protruding stomach and fired up the power sander in the driveway.

Never underestimate a woman who's nesting.

My current renovation zeal hasn't been sparked by pregnancy hormones, but rather my oldest daughter's pending summer vacation, which starts next Wednesday.  It seemed wise to knock out a few projects when just two kids, not three, are home all day.  I've triaged which projects need urgent care, which temporarily can wait, and which home renovation goals unfortunately must die.

It began when I recently hung curtains in our bedroom.  When we moved into the house seven years ago, we installed attractive honeycomb shades for privacy, but I must say that in the past few weeks I've quickly become a fan of room-darkening curtains.  If I didn't have children who wake early and insist on being fed breakfast, I easily could be lulled to revert to my high school days when I slept in obnoxiously late because our bedroom is now so blissfully dark.

Plus, when my husband walked into the room and saw the curtains, he voiced his full approval: "It looks like grown ups live here."

I concur with his reaction.  We're all grown up now.

Since hanging the curtains, I've cleaned and hung shelves in the garage, organized the basement storage closet, and painted the wooden steps leading into our house from the garage.  I've derived such simple pleasure from admiring those freshly-painted steps and newly-hung shelves that I've begun to invent reasons to visit the garage.

Yesterday I also painted our dining room -- a task that had been a long time coming, given that we bought the paint over a year ago. (To be honest, waiting this long provided a nice surprise. So this was the color that we picked!)

Even if it's a year later than anticipated, there's something to be said for diving headfirst into a task. As I spread the drop cloths on the dining room floor and taped the trim, I couldn't help but think that I was like Forrest Gump in the scene when he rose from his chair on the porch and, for no particular reason, decided to go for a little run -- one that landed him on the opposite coast.

So, if my little, one-room painting episode results in me repainting my whole house, you'll know why. Solidarity with Gump.  Once inertia is overcome, you never know what will happen.

I promise to share pictures in the coming weeks.  Stay posted!