Breather

Hi. Taking an hour break between applying coats of paint to the trapdoor access to the upstairs bathroom (located in the foyer ceiling) and the upper windowsill of the bathroom itself. After seemingly vanishing from existence for a wonderful two months after finding some new stupid shit to bitch about, Inspector Asshole has returned from whatever sabbatical he was on and now wants to schedule a re-inspection, like, yesterday. Good for him.

I think there is some kind of limited zen state I can achieve while painting. I can lose myself in the job and shed irritation with life and just kind of Be for as long as it takes to complete what I'm doing. Granted, dripping paint onto surfaces of different colors kinda hinders the calming effect of the chore a bit, but luckily, we've had none of that tonight.

Maybe I should do this more often. Anyone out there need a room painted by a rank amateur anytime soon?

I'll write some more eventually, but I've been in a pretty bleak place moodwise for the last week or so. Life sucks. It'll pass.