Popcorn Ceiling

I think Cindy is right. I am allergic to the popcorn ceiling in the basement. My hives were virtually gone this morning. I went downstairs and swept and worked and they are red again. I called DH. This is the conversation:

Me: I think we need to paint the ceiling.
DH: Oh, why?
Me: To close up whatever it is that I am allergic to and so when the boys (notice that was when-not if) horse around down there and knock some off the ceiling I won't immediately have lips that puff up. (Yes, Angelina Jolie lips.)
DH: You think they are going to goof off down there? When there is a nice couch down there?

My dear husband-did you eat this morning? Were your cinnamon raisin bagels spiked with some sort of anti-memory drug? Remember the children? your children? The same ones that have been in our house for the last 10 1/2 years? They draw comic strips about the Kingdom of Fartalot and can't clear the dinner table without going into goofy laughing convulsions or a wrestling match?

You know, the children that have attempted to go out second story windows, climb the kitchen shelves, the library shelves, onto and into the washer and dryer, the little ones that still think they are part monkey and make those cute little, "ooo, eeee" noises? The little one that lays across the back of the couch so he can pounce on an older brother when he is least aware? Is your memory coming back now??

Those children will be using the downstairs room.

What makes you think a couch is going to change their behavior? It seems that you and I (their parents) can't change their behavior.


I will have it painted before you get home from work.