I bet you thought I was going to stop writing about my basement once it was finished. Too bad.

I always thought finished basements were tacky–shag carpeting? gross! drop ceilings? so declasse!

I've become a convert, friends.

Basement, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

  1. Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the rainy weekend, you are there, beckoning the kids.
  2. You let them scream to their hearts' content, while landisdad and I sit in peace, sipping coffee and reading the entire paper.
  3. Other children are lured to play at our house by your underground wiles, and I can actually get some cleaning done, instead of enduring a whine-fest about how boring everything is.
  4. And let's not forget the best part of all–my office-slash-dining room is back to having only the two functions, instead of also housing the many, many boxes of crap we insist on keeping. I no longer have to work in fear that my tax returns from 1992-20045 will fall over and crush me to death.

Why on earth didn't we do this three years ago?