I have been working on the new house this week. The previous owners did a beautiful job of decorating, but we are working hard to make it our own. I am there late each night, stripping wall paper, priming, and painting.
The last time I bought a new house was over 18 years ago. We worked on it for three months before move-in day. I had a preschooler, a toddler, and I was in the last trimester of a pregnancy. I was waiting tables every night, and spent six weeks sleeping on my in-laws’ living room floor while we were between houses. And yet, somehow, I felt significantly better than I do these days when I wake up in the morning. Age is taking its toll on my body, and the more I paint, the more it shows.
Today, I did not wake up until 8:45 a.m. That is an ungodly late hour for someone who is typically up between 6 and 6:30. I looked at the clock, rolled over, and strongly considered falling back to sleep. Then I remembered the kids. Oh yeah! Kids! School starts at 9.