I finally cleaned up my office this weekend. We were basically using it as a toy graveyard and a storage room for stuff that doesn’t have a home. Seriously, if I don’t know where something goes, I will just chuck it in the office, like it’s the damn lost and found of our house. Last week, I almost broke my ankle while trying to walk to the desk for a freaking stamp and simultaneously trying to pirouette over a roll of wrapping paper and I was done.

I reached the point where I just needed to clean the gd office up or I was going to douse the entire thing with lighter fluid, flick a lit cigarette into the room, and walk away just like Angela Bassett did to her ex-husband’s car in Waiting To Exhale.

Since burning down my own house is not an option, I spent most of the day Saturday purging all the things from the office.  I was pretty proud of myself, I envisioned being able to actually work in there, how novel since you know, I work from home.

I then realized that the desk is much too big, I need to paint, and I totally hoard wrapping paper.

Zoe realized that the office is a nicer layout, has a larger closet, and she wants to switch rooms.

Angela Bassett had the right idea.  I should have burned the damn thing to the ground because it would basically be a lot less work than what I just created for myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally on board with Zoe switching rooms, her bedroom gets the best light upstairs during the day and it is already a pale yellow color that I think is very pretty. It’s just this room swap is interrupting my other projects I have downstairs (see kitchen backsplash).

Here’s a photo of my upstairs hallway, office is on the left, Zoe’s room is on the right. My plan this weekend was to focus on the hallway and finish painting the trim and walls and start on the doors, but now it looks like I will dragging everything from those two rooms out into the hallway and putting the crap back into the room it didn’t come from.  Sweet.

Since Zoe is now settling into the room she should have selected when we originally moved in, I upped the ante and let her choose the paint for her space.  My thought process is that she won’t want to move out of this room and back into my nice yellow office because she helped make important design decisions.  This is going to either work out all reverse psychology-like or I am going to get stuck in a straight up purple office.  Could go either way really.

Tweens and paint samples don’t mix, you guys.

Also?  The name of that color?  Innuendo.  *goes to lie down*