Not To Paint

 

 The hardware store finally got the base for the paint I wanted for the bathroom and I picked it up yesterday afternoon. Along with some screws. Can't leave the hardware store without some sort of hardware.

But by the time I got home it was too late to start. So this morning I was all "gung ho" about starting as soon as I put the offspring on the bus. But first I had to eat, and then I had to check email, and then I had to set up. I prepped the space with newspaper over stuff I didn't want to splatter with "mystic blue" paint. And stuff kept falling, and I kept tripping and slipping and swearing and cursing (not the same), and because I spend a lot of time alone I heard a small voice in my head saying "this is a bad idea."

Always listen to the voice in your head.

Unless it tells you to do something illegal.

The voice in my head seemed to be on to something, so I listened. I stopped what I was doing, got some clean clothes, and headed to the shower.

Nothing like a hot shower to clear your mind.

So now, instead of frantically painting, trying to finish before I have to go to school to hear my son's third grade class's recorder recital, I am showered, caffeinated, have time for errands and several run-on sentences, and maybe even time for a quick cocktail before the recital. You may think that's unkind, but honestly, I've never heard my son practice. I fear for my hearing. And this performance is expected to run-on for 30 minutes.

It'll be done just in time for lunch.

I haven't cracked open that bottle of Bitch Bubbly. Maybe THAT's what's for lunch.

Except that I was planning on doing the painting after the recital. My planning may be flawed.