After unplugging everything and moving the furniture from the living room, stacking it awkwardly in the hall and bedroom, we were still left with the couch. It wouldn’t fit anywhere. So we moved it away from the walls, to the middle of the room, and threw an old sheet over it.
We joked about it being a ghost, come back to haunt us for all the salsa and beer we’d spilt on it.
Sweeping up the fur and dust bunnies from the corners was harder than we thought. The place hardly even smelled like dog anymore. Imagine after we painted.