I spent around eight hours in the bunker moving around furniture and spraying surfaces with cleaner and using my swifter on the cobwebs. I changed light bulbs and filled two trash bags. The bunker was Mother’s creation and she always had to have a bar in her refuge – not for alcohol, for perching on a bar stool while sipping coffee or working a crossword or puzzle.

Once I mentioned that I thought the space would be more inviting without the bar and she replied, “I have to have a bar.” It has been over three years now, and Mother, I moved that bar around the corner. I moved it even though I found out you had BOLTED some parts in place. At one point, I was sitting on the floor, bracing my back and pushing with my feet. It was not easy.

I think the opened-up area shows potential; I know you would be in a snit. I did not remove the god awful lamp from the bedroom – mainly because I did not have a handy replacement. Sentiment just can’t overcome the pure ugliness of that lamp. There, I’ve said it.

Now I’m going to start thinking about changing the paint colors – – YIKES, WAS THAT LIGHTNING BOLT????