


After we get back from the flea market today we have to insanely clean the house. We have another photo shoot here on Thursday, and we live in a crack den when no one is photographing our house. I told Deke to think of our house for the next few days as if a museum and an operating room had a baby, it would be our house. This may be a bit too abstract, just don't dump your toys out. When we had Home Companion shooting at our house I knew there would be no reason for anyone to see my closet, they certainly weren't going to shoot a closet full of black Target t-shirts and khaki pants. My closet became the dumping ground for everything that doesn't belong in a magazine shoot. Our toaster oven, coffee pot, Costco size box of Rice Krispies, legos, boots, backpacks you name it, and it ended up in my closet. I had to run out on the first morning for a few minutes and when I returned I saw one of my tunics draped over a chair in the living room. Yikes, they had innocently ventured in to my closet to find something with color. I can't imagine what they thought when they had to step over an ice cream maker and a basketball to get to my shirt. I learned my lesson, this time we aren't going to hide things in my closet. I think we will bury everything in the backyard.
2 comments:
I want to hear where you ended up hiding stuff. tee hee. Am home today cleaning as well. Good luck with the shoot.
yay!
I got diverted by one of your little boxes. Not the ones in your closet. I love how you think.
You wrote,"when Home Companion was shooting at our house..."
An image popped into my head of Mary Englebrite standing in your driveway with a machine gun. It wasn't pretty, but pretty funny.
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