The guest bedroom
That's kind of a lie because there is no real guest bedroom right now, in that for a guest bedroom you need a bed, at least, or some blankets on the floor, or at least a crack pipe. The original owners had kids, so my guest bedroom is awash in wall paintings of happy clouds, suns (notice the "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine" inscription) and all manner of other kiddie paint jobs.
These kids must have been exceptionally neat because I haven't found a single Kool-Aid stain anywhere.
Oh, and I haven't decided on whether I'm painting over this stuff.
Just to give you an idea of the precise, organized manner in which I move. That's a chair, parts of a desk, a box of papers, a skateboard, an empty keyboard box, a hockey stick (yes, in Texas) and a plastic sword.
Hire me for your next move. I got my shit together.
The garage has an opener which is great because it freaks Cosa out. There's also this weird in-between room from the kitchen to the garage that serves no real purpose. It's like a room that wants to be a hallway, but it's stumpy. And dark because there's no light. So I put in one of these:
It's a touch light! You touch. It lights. I'm Mr. Fix It in this beeyatch.
The kitchen and the pet door
This is the area leading to my kitchen. I love having a gas stove. You have a real flame there. It's not a wussy little orange electric pipe coil. This is fire! Cook some shit up there! You also see my love of clutter displayed on that bar top. And that little window way up above the cabinets? I took a peek up there and there's about an inch of dust I'm afraid to clean.
This is the pet door leading to the garage. True story: Cosa is afraid of this door. She doesn't mind coming in through it, but she will not go out into the garage unless I physically carry her through the pet door. Which presents a problem because her food, water and litter are out there. I came home the other night to find a neat pile of something that by all rights should have been out in the garage and in the litter box instead in a corner of the bedroom. So I've taken to putting Cosa out on her litterbox and hoping for the best. She hates the pet door. Hates it.
It doesn't get much more patriotic than this. I mean, it does, but then that can be silly.