In three and one-half weeks we will have been in the townhouse for a year.  It hardly seems like a year, but the alignment of the stars seems to bear out the calculations.  While we’ve done a lot with the place, I’m having some trouble with the whole one-year anniversary as kind of a line in the sand.  For another 23 days I can point at the ugly green paint in the master bedroom and the two remaining hanging lights downstairs and a list of other things and blame them on Freddie Mac and the prior owners.  We inherited that – we’ll take care of it soon.  After one year, at least in my mind, the line changes to it was here when we got here, but we didn’t put it very high on the priority list of fixes.  There is a statute of limitations so to speak, and at some point the remaining eyesores are ours.  Don’t get me wrong – I love the townhouse and am very proud of all the improvements we’ve made.  Just expect a last-minute flurry of knocking out some of these projects before the tenth to help my own peace of mind.