Where O Where has my Little House Gone?

Here's the deal with last weekend.

My parents are investing a lot of time into flipping Gram's house (the one who passed away a little less than a year ago). The people who rented it from her were a little. . .rough. As in tear out the carpets, patch the floor with a staple gun, stick tacks in and throw knives at the walls kind of rough.

It's hard to go back and see their house like this. It was never the height of fashion, don't get me wrong. But it was comfortable, and they were proud of it.

So we're fixing it up for two reasons. First and more practically, it'll make a hell of a lot more money even if we just make it less of a hazard to live in. Secondly, there's the emotional payout knowing we're getting it back to the way my grandparents would remember it or even better.

Mum and Dad have done all the work so far by themselves. But now it's painting time, and that's where I come in. Dad HATES to paint. I sometimes wonder if he hasn't been training me since birth so he would have to do less of it. ;)

Over the 7 or 8 hours we were there, I painted an entire room by myself. Twice. And it only took me so long due to the weird little crevices around the dormer windows which require painstaking cutting. As thanks my parents fed me. They know I will pretty much always work for food.

It's starting to look a lot better. I'll try to get some before and after pictures so you can fully comprehend the magnitude of the undertaking!