Grout: it's what's for dinner!
So, today was supposed to be our move-in day. Oh, ha! Ha HA. Last month it had seemed feasible to have all the work done by now, so I had optimistically called all the utilities and the cable company and told them to shut everything down at our "old" place as of today. And promptly forgot all about it until I was walking Katie this morning and saw the Edison guy walking around the side of the house looking for the main Frankenstein switch. (Or, no, wait -- isn't that the one that controls the artificial gravity?*) At any rate, I caught him in the nick of time. The Edison man looked like an old Hawaiian surfer, lots of freaky white hair and that deep-brown skin, and the accent that sounds vaguely Minnesotan but is, indeed, Hawaiian. And he was all, Dude! You better call the office. So I ran upstairs and, after a celebratory mug of microwaved tea, called off SoCal Edison, and then I thought, Hmm, I'd better call THE PHONE COMPANY so I can continue to call other important people, like the gas people and -- OH MY GOD, THE CABLE.
*That will make sense if you've seen Treasure Planet three or seventeen times.
Anyway, I'm sorry about YET ANOTHER PICTURE OF OUR TILE, I am going back down this afternoon to get some new shots after I fill up another thirty boxes with old rubber stamps and Eeyore statuettes.