It’s almost done. A lot of my bathroom stuff is in the spare bedroom, but I’ve arranged it all into neat piles so that it no longer looks as if it is going to leap off the floor & spare bed and give you a good ‘ol dirty beatin’. I started last Saturday, late afternoon & worked late into the night, beginning with the ceiling & wallpapering my way down. Then starting again on Thursday (I took myself a ‘mental health day’) I spent the whole day, from about 10:00 a.m. to well into the night, on my hands & knees laying flooring.
I am exhausted and sore in strange parts of my body (ex. I was just awakened by the phone ringing; I was curled up in the desk chair at the computer. It was 9:15 p.m.)
I also managed to sustain a ridiculous freak injury during my remodel. I was hanging the wallpaper on Saturday & using a quite sizable utility knife [box cutter] to cut the wallpaper. I left it on top of the ladder (well yes, of course opened). Later, when I moved the ladder to a new location, the knife flew off of the top & nailed me in the outside corner (that bone right below) my right eye. A knot popped up in my peripheral that had me convinced that I was being stalked. Of course, I had to pick Ashton up from youth group sporting the hematoma & she takes one look at me & her mouth flies open as she climbs into the car. “Mommy! Oh, my gosh!” Looking to the right at her as she gets in, from across the lump in my peripheral that seriously looked like a person, “Well aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” That joke didn’t pertain for long.
The following morning, I awoke with a true shiner. Black from the inside corner of my eye to my cheekbone. Cool! I have a black eye! I’ve never had a black eye before. I’m actually feeling pretty hard core. Oh, the stories I can tell! “You should see the other girl”. “… but he said he was sorry”. “I had a nose job, how’s it look?” This would be fun!
By Monday the novelty had worn off & I realized just how not fun a black eye was. Seriously, if one more person looks at me with pity (or at times contempt, “Why do they stay?”) I’m going to go Matrix on them! When you see a woman with a cast on her foot do you assume that their spouse has masochistically stepped on their toes with a steel-toed boot just to hear their toes snap? If they have a neck brace on, do you automatically presume that she has shaken-wife syndrome? Then why, for the love of reality t.v. would you assume that because a person has a black eye that they’re candidates for the Burning Bed!? Ugh.
In actuality, my husband likely saved my eyesight. He had walked past the ladder prior to the incident & noticed that I had left it open! Thinking to himself, “Whoa, no good can come of this!” he closed it. In reality, I’ll probably never live down how he saved my optic nerve. Aren’t I the lucky one?
Look people, if Harold was inclined to inflict pain on me, it certainly would have been tonight during my hormonal, “you eat too much bread,” rant.