Day 12 - in which we start with a bang and then collapse in a mangled heap

It's a beautiful day in Launceston today. So beautiful that after a mammoth morning of painting, I decided to take my books and relax in my new conservatory.
The car, that is.
That was about 2 o'clock. Then before I know it, I wake up with my arm flung over my head and my already sore neck crooked at a very unnatural angle. I look at my mobile phone and it's 4 o'clock. I have slept for two hours in bright sunlight, sitting bolt upright, a feat I can NEVER achieve on a plane, even dosed up on phenergen.
We are so tired.
And sore. It hurts to even touch my forearms or neck because I've spent the last three days clutching a paint rod. It's like a battle. Me versus the ceiling. And of course, any battle needs armour.

Tony laughed himself silly when he first saw me in this get up. But hey - one, I don't want to have to try and get paint out of my hair every night, and two, paint in the eyes HURTS! And that ceiling spits at me whenever it gets the chance (see aforementioned entry re NO PROPER CEILING PAINT). Still, I suppose I didn't have to don the cupcake shower cap to make my point. Normal people would wear a bandanna or something.

Anyway, afternoon nap over, I went inside to find Tony also sleeping, but the way proper people do it - on the bed. We are Renovator's Extraordinaire.

But the painting comes along. Our resident consultant, Dad Enlund, suggested we do all ceilings first and then do the walls. He's been a gem. I offered to bring him down here and set him up with an armchair, his tele and cups of tea on demand if he'd take on the role full time, but he graciously declined.

In other news, we took down the hideous black and pink floral curtains and found this lovely stained glass in the bedroom.

And I hauled the multi-painted front door down to the dip and strip joint (if only it were as lurid as it sounds) where they assure me their all organic dipper (??) will take the old front door back to it's original glory. Of course the shop was on the side of a freaking hill (as many things are here) and of course I still don't know how to back my trailor, despite many attempts, so the guys in the office had a good laugh while I tried to park and get my doors into them. Eventually they helped. But only after I'd provided some light entertainment. Next time I pay the $30 for pick up and delivery.

And just for some fun, I post you a picture of the seven foot high corn our tenants planted in the backyard, a picture that succinctly explains the massive water bills I've been grumbling about for the past few months.