Monday Madness = Body Sore and multiple various things

Friday night was sorta rough. I attempted to move the kids room into an ordered chaos (ie, everything away from the walls with enough room to paint them) and also attempted to put painters tape around things like windows or doors. Yeah, that was somewhat successful. All the while half way drunk on JD Honey Whiskey (yum!) because it was Friday night and damn it, I wanted a drink.

Saturday, I got up late Saturday morning (see JD Honey Whiskey above), did the cat litter, dishes and took a shower. Then, prepped for painting. Got my music going and got to work. It was about 1 pm when I finally get cracking.

Ceiling was first. I'm surprised I don't have a kink in my neck from looking up. I just did 1 coat on the ceiling, since it's a dark color.

This first picture shows you the ceiling grey with the old blue walls (bright blue, that is). There was still good natural light coming in at this point. The paint is still sorta wet though in this shot.

That took about 1.5 hours. I stopped for a brief lunch, standing - because I had paint on my clothes and didn't want to sit on anything - and had a short phone conversation and then it was back to work.

By the time I was done with the walls, it was dark out - which is why this picture isn't as bright. I ended up having to do 2 coats on the walls, since that color is a nice light grey - the bright blue was showing through making them look dirty. So, another short break to drink something and shove some kind of edible food into my mouth, then the 2nd coat was applied. I will say that on the last 3 little walls (I really really didn't want to finish Saturday, but I did! I have plans for Sunday and didn't want to change those) I just make it a thicker 1 coat - mainly because 1: I was running out of paint and 2: I was fucking tired. FUCKING TIRED.

It's not perfect, but it doesn't NEED to be. It will eventually get painted again - AND - if the kid/I want, I have enough paint for some (read: very very minor ones) touch ups.

I had to move furniture, more than once. I did a lot of stairs, bending, on my tippy toes for a good portion and crouching down to get the bottom of the walls.

At the end, I texted the picture to the kid, took another shower, attempted to get what paint out of things that I could, and plopped myself down on my couch. I was too tired to cook and too tired to actually put on more than panties and a tee-shirt to answer the door if I had bothered to order food in. It was close to 8 pm when the room was done and before I started the clean up process. It was about 9 pm when I sat down. It was about 10:30 pm when I finally said fuck it and took my tired ass up the stairs. Only to have to come down (and yes, back up) them 3 times after that because the fucking caterwauling cat Puck would not shut the hell up. I finally gave up and slept on the couch. It was past 3 am at this point. Seriously.

Sunday, I was up at 8:52 am. Hello sunshine, bite me. Fed the cats, did the dishes, the cat litter and made myself 2 eggs. And coffee. Coffee is my bestest of best friends. Coffee Rules.

Then I took a shower and got ready. Then realized I had more time than I thought, and cleaned some more, ie: sweeping - that never ending bitch that drives me. I hope I am burning calories with this shit. Organized some of CD's (read: moved them to the media case and shoved them into a slot) and did some of my finances. Stupid medical bills - they SUCK.

Anyways, then I was out all afternoon and early evening. I'm about 10 minutes from the house when my Kid calls me and tells me he took a dive down the stairs. It seems that they didn't like him or his socks for some reason and tossed him down. He was not happy. I was not happy. He's fine, nothing broken, bleeding or bruised (that I could see). His pads of his feet hurt but that calmed down as the night wore on. I'm hoping it's a growth spurt and not my clutz genetics at work here. This morning, he was 100% normal. Heart Attack for Mom - 1.

Busy ass weekend. Wonderful and awesome in many many ways. Accidental stair case maneuvers, notwithstanding.

Today, however. My body fucking ACHES. My knees - OH MY FUCKING GODS my knees HATE me and want me to keel over and die! Thankfully my arm that was hurting so bad Saturday night is movable again. But my hips and knees? They hate my sorry ass! I have been taking advil or aleve since Saturday night and they just scream bloody murder at me. And what do I do? Ignore it. Granted, today it seems to be worse. Today, it feels like someone is driving needles under my knee caps. That's a joyous feeling let me tell you.

I need to start doing yoga again. Seriously. Because this shit is NOT cool. Not cool AT ALL.

So, I am going to go walk around this lovely new storage building and figure out racks and shit and pretend that pain is my friend. A really unwanted, annoying friend - but there you go.

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