I am lollygagging this morning. Friday afternoon, I texted the dude who has been letting me in the building at 7 every morning and told him that I would not be there so early today. All I intend to do once I get there is load up a year's worth of Phase I reports and bring them home to sort. That workroom may not see me again until after Thanksgiving.
Yesterday after lunch, The Husband and Cousin David showed up. David had asked The Husband to help him unload some furniture and then drive him back down here to pick up a car. When they came in, I said to them, "I bet Son #2 would like some help with his renovation work." David high-tailed it out of here. The Husband and I went across the road to help.
In addition to other remodeling, #2 is taking out two walls, opening up the front rooms of the house into one large room. One of the walls had a brick hearth that went all the way to the ceiling (a wood stove once sat there). #2 and The Husband sledge-hammered the bricks and hauled them out in a wheelbarrow. While they did that, I took up carpet tack strips and staples from the floors.
I do not have a single finger that doesn't have something wrong with it. Cuts. Blood blisters. Bruises. Splinters. These, on top of the arthritis and the sliced cuticles from the file job at work. My hands are screaming, "Enough,already!"
If I'd had good sense, I'd have worn gloves.
But nobody ever accused me of having good sense. ;)
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