Presently, my house is in a bit of a shambles.
We've decided on some long overdue projects, namely rebuilding our front porch before it rots and sinks into the ground, updating the design of our family room and replacing the ancient asbestos shake siding on our house.
I'm up to my eyeballs in contractors and subs. No more naked dashes from the shower to the bedroom in the morning, lest I come eye to eye with a very shocked, and possibly scarred-for-life worker.
But over the weekend, as I watched another episode of Showtime's Dexter, I had to laugh when I looked at the view from my own kitchen:
Yep. Are you thinking what I"m thinking, Dexter fans?
Great. Now who's going to come visit?
Here's a wider shot. They had to cordon off the family room while they are working. Ergo, a partial Dexter-style kill room.
No, I don't have any photos of victims, but I do have scrapbook pages.
Some would say I killed those pages.
Clearly in possession of too much time