Paint exterior. More specifically - second coat on the tinwork at the front of the house in a desperate attempt to have it finished before the landscapers rock up. In a strange twist of tradesman fate - they came a day early YESTERDAY when we were only halfway through the first coat. They say they're coming back Wednesday....I think you can trust anyone who calls himself 'Fat Wombat'. It bodes well.
Here's where the bathroom is at:
GONE!
Here's where the kitchen is at:
GONE!
And here's the mess we had after all that fun:
And here's where the painting is at:
Renovating is a journey of self discovery. I have discovered i am not at all scared of heights. Happy as a pig in the proverbial way up on the roof, looking out at the mountains, watching the rain clouds come in.
Then swearing at the rain clouds.
Then getting rained on and watching my whole mornings work turn into a puddle. Then clambering down as fast as my legs will carry me when the wind picks up.
Maybe i'm a little bit scared of heights after all.
But I find that unlike city driving, there is very little that can annoy me. I am so laid back you could carry me around in that little yellow bucket I toss the brushes in when I'm on top of the scaffold. Perhaps it is the disintegration of my muscles after all this hard work.
Tomorrow the action heats up (!) with the plumbers/carpenters and landscapers all expected to lob early am.
I, on the other hand, am lobbing myself and Tony into the nearest hotel tomorrow night.
This is after the none-too-glorious experience of washing my long hair in a bucket (yes, the same yellow one) yesterday. And bathing in a tepid pool of inch high water is not up there on my 'must-experience' list either. Put them both together, with me bathing in an inch of water and washing my hair in a bucket while the wind whistles up my wazoo through the crack under the door - and you've got one unhappy little camper.
Which I think in all conscience, I must now add 'camping' to the list of things I have no intention of ever trying.
I'm trying to convince Tony that tripping off ladders and spraining his ankle should never have made it on his list of 'to-do's' but now he's laid up with a bag of peas (the same bag we used on his neck two weeks ago) on his ankle and a very distressed look on his face. Those peas have been frozen and unfrozen so many times they probably don't know what the heck is going on.
Please send him good vibes (Tony, not the peas).
Anyway - I must go back up on the scaffold to finish the eaves. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD this is taking a long time.
2 comments:
Yes, taking too long! Get the painting fairies to finish the job and come home : )
And I thought it was compulsory for every freezer to have the bag of peas icepack. You've just gotta remember which one it is as they don't taste great if you cook them after multiple freezings (yes, we learned that the hard way courtesy of my father).
Hugs to Tony on sore ankle and to you for bucket trauma!
My verification word is ygnvgnr which I think must be the sound your brain makes at the end of a day of renovating : ))
I'm with Mel... it's taking too long. We miss you... find those painting fairies!!!! Love to you both.
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