My one-project-per-week resolution has found itself sidetracked, somehow. There are two times of year when my usual barreling inertia gets stuck in a rut. One is predictably the hottest week of July of August. Last summer, I got so irritated at myself for not making progress, until I reminded myself that it was 93 degrees outside, that it had been 93 degrees outside everyday for a week, and maybe the smart thing to do would be to find someplace cool and damp to slurp an iced beverage. Which is what I did.
Now for the midwinter torpor-- it's easier to forgive myself this one, when it's windchill -20 outside. I'm working on being nice to myself during these two ruts each year. Deep in the throes of Winter Rut, now, I tell myself that a space heater, a novel, a sewing project, and a podcast are perfectly respectable employments for a snowy afternoon.
Usually ruts last a week or ten days, so Monday, I expect, I will unstick myself and begin moving forward again on my project list.
Next is paint stairwell clearstory, you know, um, this:
This is an old picture, obviously, but see that little shabby gray bit, up at the tippy-top? Yep, that's the object of my progress-desire. Maybe you can see why I'm hesitating. Also, I need to conscript Patrick's help in maneuvering our extension ladder into place on the landing below. Gulp.
In the background, at least, bathroom progress is happening. Tiling is next, which is when things start to get really good. The introduction of a finished surface, into a wholly unfinished room, is an exciting thing.
|(The staging area. Always an inevitability.)|
In other news, it has been incredibly breath-suckingly cold. The chickens are unfazed. I am trying to channel their insouciance. Happy Friday, friends!