Despite covering the living room door opening with plastic sheeting and keeping the basement door tightly closed, there was a layer of white dust on everything on all three floors.

Wise-ass cousin, John wrote on my to-do list on the white board in the kitchen ... "Sunday: Dust."

I have to admit that (and a few vodka-and-diet cokes) made me laugh.

The biggest casualty was my L.L.Bean canvas attache case -- a monogrammed birthday gift from the company I've been using to transport my stuff to-and-from work for years (about 8 years, I think). The bag had seen better days -- I noticed a hole was starting on one corner -- it was getting ratty-looking and I was afraid to touch the nether regions of it's recesses with my bare fingertips, but....man, I loved that bag.

I walked in Saturday afternoon -- beer and boxes of pizza in hand -- to find my beloved navy blue bag turned completely white with plaster dust. I tried to wash it, but...admitted defeat and finally pulled out last year's company birthday gift -- a black canvas attache case with the Erie Times-News logo on it. It's not the same, but I suppose I'll get used to it.

When the dust settled on Sunday, I went to work cleaning and send the girls to work with their dad -- pulling nails out of studs. I was certain there was an E.R. visit (hammer-claw-to-the-head) in our future, but, alas, seems they inherited the handy gene from their dad's family.

I guess that's a good thing -- long as they don't pick up on the post-work (mid-work, getting-ready-to-work, watching-the-paint-dry) beer drinking, too. Ah...but, then, beer and pizza is a small price to pay for the home of my dreams (even if it is buried under a layer of dust.