Wed 27 Sep 2000
My thumb is bleeding.
My thumb got too close to the notch I was cutting in new siding for
the TV cable to snake its way into the family room. It got too close
to the jigsaw blade.
My neck is a notted mass of anger from working over my head for two
solid weeks. You would never believe how many things you can do to
update the infrastructure of your home hidden above your ceiling.
My shoulders are throbbing but definitely better looking lumps of muscle
from my newfound knack for using a pickaxe. And after breaking one
appointment with my massage therapist I can’t seem to get another one.
My jaw is starting to get over its sensitivity to touch after many days
of working with the slightly less comfortable to save a few bucks respirator,
since this IS an old house and God knows WHAT is hiding in that attic.
It’s prime swimming season and I haven’t got time to win the war against
algae since my pool pump took a dump.
I’m tired of eating dinners based largely on the criteria of disposability
since half the family room furniture is in the kitchen (to make the living
room just a little less submarine-like).
And the whiny 12 year old next door who pestered me for a job (”I wanna
help renovate!”) for two weeks won’t take $5 a load to do my damn laundry,
which has now become a settee’ in the guest bathroom.
If it weren’t for that quality Outward Bound training 10 years ago,
I’d'a hanged myself by now. God bless beer.
