Just Like Bert & Ernie's Pad

Last year sometime, the girls decided that having a playroom was crap, and it was time to split the bunk beds apart and have separate rooms. Hallelujah, bedtime became infinitely easier, what with the inability to talk all the livelong day and keep each other awake until I come in screaming.

Whew. SO glad that happened. But. Yesterday. I must have been tired. Or in a particularly giving, loving delusional mood. God help us, I agreed to put the beds BACK in the same room and resurrect the playroom. And by "I agreed", I mean I signed up The Man for heavy lifting.

It is now 9:15pm, and let me just say... the talking. THE TALKING. What did I expect? They are GIRLS. It's the first night of Room Switcheroo 2009. Luckily, The Man has drawn the short straw and has to be the one to awaken them in the morning to get ready for school. Ha ha.

Of course, the fallout for ME is that I get to move 87 pieces of furniture around and try and make some sense of the clutter. Ssssshhhh. Don't tell the girls that while they are in school, I periodically go through their garbage! IT'S GARBAGE stuff and throw away box up their things and move them to the garage. Of course, they've not ONCE missed a single item. (except for those stick ponies that neighed and played the William Tell Overture until the batteries/motor started to go bad so they sounded like Rossini had smoked a bowl, but I told them uh, duuuh, hmmm, no clue. They're maybe in the closet... oh you should keep looking! No? How about a lollipop!)

Anyway. A nine year old and an almost seven year old sharing a room. I'm sure it'll last WELL into their teens.

Or, in a more likely scenario, next week I'll be documenting the line taped down the center of the room.