Home Improvement...For The Zombies

I've come to the conclusion that zombies wouldn't approve of my kitchen walls, which are no less than 5 different colors at the moment. I also don't think they'd approve of my kitchen cabinets, which are a disagreeable shade of green that was applied on top of a coat of varnish, causing the paint to scratch if you so much as look at it the wrong way (and I've been known to give my cabinets the 'stink eye' on many an occasion).

My husband has come to a similar conclusion about the living room, which has a wall directly in between the fireplace and the rest of the house that causes the living room to heat to a balmy 84 degrees while the back bedrooms exist in a state of sub-artic permafrost.

Zombies, he says, cannot STAND inefficient heating and cooling.

So this month's zombie preparedness strategy will consist of sanding, staining, painting, and one giant-ass hole cut into the sheetrock.

We do this sometimes.

We talk for months...nay...years on end about this or that home improvement project, and then one day, for no clear reason, we run in, guns blazing, ready to go balls deep in this bitch of a house.

It's magical.

We crank up the tunes, put on our crappiest pair of jeans, and throw ourselves into a project as if the Devil himself was whipping us forward.

And then, a few weeks later, we're suddenly all, "woah, it's mountain biking season" and our house stays in the exact condition at which it was left on that fated day.

No...seriously.

Observe the half-sanded wall that we couldn't manage to fix for our wedding day:

Also observe that I can't manage to put my cake down to kiss my new husband.

In either case....ridic.

But that's how we roll.

And as long as we're both okay with it, the marriage stays reasonably happy, albeit in a state of relative chaos.

It's not that my house is a mess, I tell people, it's just a lot of different colors and textures and there's a lot of the outdoors inside.

But the zombies...yeah...they hate that shit.

So to prevent the zombies from flying into a rage, I'll fix the kitchen.
Because we all know that the only thing worse than a zombie is a zombie whose sense of style has been offended.

Makes 'em bite harder.