Almost Done, Almost Dead

Day eleven of the re-decorating of our bedroom (I work very slowly), and I can barely move. I still have the new floor to put down. Mark insists that I put the flooring all the way into all the closets. I know that is the right thing to do, but I am goddamned tired and who the hell is going to be looking into my closets anyway. My knees hurt like hell, my feet are throbbing, and my conjunctivitis seems to be even worse than it was on Monday. My right hand is sore and painful from painting, and the pain shoots up my arm and into my shoulder every time I lift something. Oh, and I might have a hernia from moving all the furniture back and forth across the room.

It's nice to know that my dogs really like me. they have been following me around like, well like puppy dogs. It may be because they think all the crap going on in the bedroom means we are moving, and they don't want me to forget them. I couldn't possibly forget those two fur balls. It is like they are glued to me. Even as I was painting the baseboard around the room, Chandler would lay immediately behind me. With one hand holding a paint brush dripping with wet paint, I had to keep nudging him along as I scooted around the room. Paint, paint, nudge, nudge, paint, paint, nudge, nudge. Sasha on the other hand, followed along behind me as I painted, brushing up against my newly painted baseboards. She now looks a little like a reverse Dalmatian, with little white spots all over her. Speaking of white spots all over black. While I painted the entire room from the ceiling to the baseboards, Mark managed to paint part of one door. He cannot paint. He is the sloppiest, worst painter I have ever encountered. Paint on the floor, paint slopped onto the walls, and paint all over Mark. Actually the white paint on Mark was kind of funny. At this point I'll let you make up your own joke.