"You can light yourself a torch on the old front porch, but don't go in the basement..."

Well, the first week in our new home, and if there were Big Brotheresque cameras (I'm talking shitty reality show, not Orwell novel) filming us 24/7, you'd probably see scenes that would invoke comparisons to either Home Improvement if Tim Allen ever broke down sobbing, or perhaps "Rabbit Hood", the Bugs Bunny cartoon in which the Sheriff of Nottingham, once realizing he had been duped into building a new house on the King's property, can do nothing more than scream "OOOOH, I HATE MYSELF!" and bash himself in the head with his hammer...

It's been fun.

This morning I've been down in the basement peeling away layers of dust and spiderwebs, while the dehumidifer has been running full blast pulling water out of the house in 40-pint bucket increments. Dare I say, the old place is starting to look good...

It doesn't mean that if that smug bastard Bob Vila ever showed himself around I would refrain from slugging him a good one...