Carpe Diem, Squirrel, Carpe Diem

I had the most ferociously good day today, working like a dog.

I am in the middle of three days off to paint the back of my house - the last remaining bit of unfinished renovations that ear-marks us as white trash.

The renos started yesterday under a black cloud of PMS. I was enraged. Raging at the whole world and everything in it. I was enraged why? Because

a) I wanted to paint the whole back of my house, but was chickening out once again because I don't want to get electrocuted by the huge, honking powerline that's up there
b) I had the type of PMS where I make stupid decisions, so I couldn't possibly go anywhere near the powerline
c) I forgot to eat breakfast for two hours (see stupid decisions under point b))

After stomping around dramatically and swearing like a girl from Lead.r for an hour or so, I realized that I could simply paint the lower half of the house so that we can put up the cedar shingles, and then we can paint the top later. Beans/Imelda is building a workshop in the backyard, and they are going to bury the power line to the house in the Fall. Then nothing will stop me from shedding my white-trash carapace.

Heh. How many hits would you get if you put "white-trash carapace" into Gurgle? Betcha that's good for a Googlewhack. But I digress.

Anyway, after the rocky start - plus, Jim was kind and made me some oatmeal - I got a lot done yesterday. Heat-stripped paint, scraped, sanded, filled, primed, caulked. Avoided hitting the powerline with my ladder... The day was salvaged.

And today was awesome. I not only painted some more, I also scrubbed and re-stained the front porch, did laundry (have become addicted to the smell of laundry from the clothesline), and tidied the house. And first thing, Jim and I went out and dragged a 15-foot cedar board home with our tiny car. It was hilarious, if not exactly smart. It was so long that it was hanging out the back of the trunk and sticking out my passenger window at the same time. I worked like a dog, and I loved it. This is a prime example of PMS superwoman syndrome. When I was in university, there would occasionally be a day where I would clean my entire apartment, wash the car, and weed the whole garden, after which I would go dancing for three hours. 'Wow,' I'd muse, 'What's going on with me?' And then I'd figure it all out.

So there you go, rage incidents followed by raw physical power. A squirrel at the mercy of the elements.

If I have any energy left tomorrow - and if it doesn't rain - there's going to be even more painting. Chip chrrrr.