I'm up a pound from last week. I've also been eating salty snacks in the summer heat, so it could be a little water retention, and even if not, I've been down several weeks in a row and am still in my target 5-lb. bracket. I just don't want it to become a trajectory. This hot time of year, potato chips are the thing, aren't they?
Husband and I spent several days last week working at my mom's house. Our handyman being unvailable, it fell on us to tear out old wall-to-wall carpeting, sort old grimy furniture, pull hooks and nails out of the walls, and get the leaking kitchen sink fixed. We did it despite 95-degree heat and getting showered with grit and mold as we rolled up the old carpets. On the backing of the bedroom carpeting was one very big, very black mold spot -- I don't know what they spilled, but they obviously didn't get it washed out or vacuumed up when it was still liquid. Under the rug are oak floors, and the floorboards were parted from the moisture having sat on them a long time, and coated with black powdery mold. (Not only on the surface where it might be sanded off, but down in the cracks between the boards and probably on top of the subfloor too.) It's amazing my folks weren't goners from lung issues, frankly. The pressure-washer comes today (parts of the outside back wall are green with mildew) and the junk guys have taken away a moving truck of crap so far; they still have to come back Tuesday for an old freezer. There's also an old oil tank in the basement to have decommissioned; I get a bid on Monday.
At least I've got full charge of the task without all my sisters butting in with their own agendas. I'd be glad if they would come to wash or dust or pull nails or help carry out the raunchy old sofa, but mostly they come to argue about the expense of clean-up. If we couldn't have paid the small fortune to have the junk guys haul out all the crap, we would have had to torch the place. And nobody is going to be able to tell me that we shouldn't have professional cleaners do the mop-up.
We're about to acknowledge my son's cat is really gone. I talked to him last night about getting a new kitten. I didn't want him to think I was implying that his irreplaceable and beloved cat was replaceable, but pointed out that if his heart was aching, it can help to have somewhere to put all that love. He cheered up as we looked at the Humane Society's web page, and he found an 11-week-old kitten he liked a lot. I put in an application -- we'll see if said kitty doesn't already have about twelve people who want him.
Off to my mom's house to meet the pressure washer :-P
Have a great week!