I planned to paint my living room last week. Monday morning I was awakened by the electric pole replacement company bright and early, left without electricity all morning, and quite talked myself out of it on Monday.
Tuesday was co-op.
Wednesday Pierce had a doctor appointment to get a wart frozen off his foot. I followed that up with a walk around the pond at a local park. What kid wouldn’t want to walk a few miles with a case of severe frostbite on their heel? I know. Genius, right? Chalk that up to an enhanced workout, with a 40 pound boy on my back. At any rate, I didn’t paint Wednesday.
Thursday I just didn’t. I ran out of excuses and went for the “I don’t feel like it” version.
Friday I went to get summer clothes out of the shed, having chalked my week up as a loss on the painting front, and resigned myself to getting the clothes from the shed washed and put away and calling it a day. Maybe another walk at the park was in order.
I walked back into the house to a nightmare. A mess of gigantic proportions greeted me. My dear child, knowing I wanted to paint, gave me a
kick in the rear err, um, a headstart and cleared out the living room as best she could. My house looks like the living room vomited it’s contents, spewing forth into every corner of the house.
And so I painted, grumbling all the while. I painted the ceiling, playing musical chairs with the furniture placement in the room. Saturday I painted the hallway, stairwell, and some of the living room walls. And rearranged books. And sold my desk, opting for a filing cabinet instead. And sorted out old documents, shredding what I could, and filing the rest. Because, like painting, I hate filing papers. Once they are filed, I don’t want to see them again. So I didn’t. Taxes from 1998 mocked me. Google said save them for four years. Clearly, I could put them off no longer. Painting would have to wait. Because as much as I hate filing paperwork, I hate painting more.
But tomorrow, I finish. The ache in my back says it needs to be over. I still have a good two-thirds of the walls left, plus baseboards and a door.
But we’re nearly out of milk. We’re out of baking cocoa, as our attempt at chocolate cake for the potluck today revealed. We’re out of bread and tortillas. We’re out of rice.
I might have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. But I can’t procrastinate any longer. Because the living room spewage is awful, y’all. We’re sitting in lawn chairs because, well, when you take down coat racks, even when winter coats are packed away, 10+ fleeces and a handful of little girls’ purses take up residence on the sofa. Plus a few wall hangings… Because I had one framed family photo on the kitchen table and a piece of 10″ x 14″ glass is now also on my list. It’s all enough to make me avoid painting.
Except I did that. It clearly worked well.
For the record, I’m not a procrastinator. Not even close. Except when I have to file paperwork. Or paint a bedroom or living room that we live in, one that’s full of furniture and bookshelves. Bookshelves. Ugh.
Last week was rough. Next week isn’t looking much better. But we’re on school break for the summer… And, if I have anything to say about it, my living room will be painted and back to rights by supper time tomorrow.