Why did I decide right after being sick with Covid was the time to rearrange and paint my bedroom? I am still not done with it. I'm going to run out of paint before the last quarter of the room is done. And I lost about a week not knowing where I set down the edge brush. I worried that Valerie took off with it. But no, it was me, burying it under a stack of junk, and not finding it until I went and got a different one from the paint bin in the garage. Turns out, neither a new nor an old brush could save me from myself. My edges are so sloppy, I'm going to have to schedule time to go around with a razor blade and clean up the baseboards.
I could have gotten more done to finish it all today if this cold wasn't dedicated to smacking me around to the point of taking meds ending in "quil" and sleeping most of the day. I haven't taken another Covid test. I really don't think it's that. But the coughing is almost as bad. Think happy thoughts for me that it resolves tonight. I got things I gotta do.
The coverage even with two coats isn't great, but it does make me feel so much calmer being in here with walls that just disappear. It feels bigger even with furniture still slightly out of whack and debris piled everywhere. The wall where the TV will go (pictured here, only half-finished) is done now. I hope to move the TV Friday or Saturday, and knock out the last little section. Then it will be rehanging art, bringing back the first Middle Eastern carpet we ever acquired, and figuring out how to stuff all the extra stuff, like the sewing machine, into corners and under furniture, while my craft room is still occupied by our long-term houseguest. I have a plan, that I think just might work.
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