DAY 7: The drywall is up and now drying with the second mud. I hope tomorrow the cement board, tile, toilet and bead-board wainscoting will go up. Most likely will not, but I can dream.
I want my words to be so perfectly thorough, insightful and injected with meaning and art that I’m often dumbstruck. Frozen. There are noises and smells, feet walking and mouths open, distractions and responsibilities that my mind is segmented and compartmentalized. A nomad on the plains of adulthood.
I see what so many others can toss down, a pocket full house, while I just stumble and stammer and end up writing like a teenager riddled with angst and confusion. There is more to say, more to explore, more to try; but maybe this isn’t the medium to deliver the message.
I’ll give myself some assignments. That sounds good. It’s time to take the kids up to bed (ignore these post times, right now it’s about 2 hours off, 2 hours too early).
It’s grandmommys last day and they both are worn out from excitement. Bed time, I need sleep.