On the 25th day of Christmas my gumption gave to me 30 sheets of sandpaper to scour the wood paneling. On the 24th day of Christmas, my gumption gave to me sneezing fits of varnish bits from the scouring my bathroom walls with 30 sheets of sandpaper.
Though not a neat nut, I did have a minor panic last night when the counter, floor, shower and I were covered in dust and a quick prescrape. I had to wipe it all down and sweep up the floor just to be able to rinse off in the shower. How do people do it? I used to get all freaked out with projects like this, tackled alone, but not this time. I am relishing in my effort to singularly take on this mess and make it bright. I keep in focus the beauty that is to come.
However, I am not one of the lucky ones allowed to focus on one sole project at a time. There also is work to be done. My article is coming along and I feel confident that I am becoming, if not already, a healthcare IT expert. But the layers of other tasks keep stacking up and as I metaphorically scrape them away new job jackets appear on my desk to be handled right away. “Nice creative piece, can you cut it a bit … say about half?” or “Remember that newsletter we talked about a few weeks ago? Well here is some copy and you’ll need to do a little research, can I have it tomorrow?” or even “Can you give me about 75 creative words for 3 emails, for this afternoon?” The article is put aside and all these little nits come first so I can think again. I’ll just keep pushing on for now.
But I didn’t push myself too hard last night. I was ill last week and to jump into a vigorous activity like I am all well and good would be insane. Ren made sure I took a break, specifically to watch Heroes and discuss the physical attributes and personalities of select male characters. She also brought over some drapes I am thinking of using in the bathroom, her donation to my cause.
The job is already turning out to be more than I thought and I waylay the anxiety knowing it will somehow get done with baby steps. Today’s gruesome task will be scraping the blue bubbles of paint off the ceiling. These bubbles and dangling pieces of latex flesh have taunted me for a decade. So I just refused to look up, but with the onslaught of prying eyes, I must take into account that what is up, must come down. And down it will come in showering (hopefully lead-free) flecks.
Goggles ready, I will scrape my heart out so I may prime tomorrow! Charge!