Painting the Basement

We have lived in this house for ten years with the finished basement being the second home for many of our boys' friends.

Sleepovers, Dance Dance parties, birthday parties, playing pool and/or ping pong, watching the Sponge Bob Movie about 80 million times, Nintendo, X Box, Wii-- whatever new game system comes out to be added to all the games and systems already collected, pizza, donuts, Tropical Smash, popcorn, bowls of candy, bags of chips, the death couch. Oh, the stories I could tell about that basement. One Saturday morning I came down to do laundry and found about 10 boys laying all over the place, in and among 4 tv sets that had been moved in to have some kind of electronic gaming marathon.

And then as the boys grew older they would occasionally clean up the pigsty and make it suitable for girls on dates--turning on the Scentsy warmer, opening windows to air out the "Basement of Stench," fluffing up the love sac, neatly organizing the afghans, pillows, DVD's, and electronic games, cords, and devices.

My husband and I have completely avoided the basement, except for the routine trips to the laundry room (me, not him), the food storage room and the freezer. Oh, and the occasional peek-in during parties. We dwell upstairs, and when the boys entertain in the basement, the farther upstairs we get the better we like it.

But now the basement is being repainted, the damaged white walls full of dart holes are being patched, sanded and painted mango. It will be beautiful.  The carpet also begs to be replaced. But then what about the love sac, the death couch, the Dance Dance pads and the millions of cords and controllers? This basement needs a lot more than fresh paint before it is inhabitable for normal human life beyond that of adolescent boys and young men.

When that time comes, I will wander down there and see the mango walls, the new carpet, the updated furniture and decorating touches, and I will sit down on my new leather couch and cry my eyes out.