Out of bed after a couple restless hours or dozing. The house is in painterly shambles:
So we are basically refugees in the cluttered basement.
Longtime readers may recall that my one real claustrophobia trigger (other than trapped limbs) is junk-filled used bookstores. Which is essentially what my basement is right now.
So. Currently I am perched on the corner of the covered-in-plastic guest bed, waiting for my allergy meds to kick in so I can try to sleep. So I can get up and deal with new clients tomorrow. And my incision itches - but at least does not hurt, provided that I do nothing to raise my blood pressure.
Like haul the REST of the books to the basement tomorrow.
At least the ceilings and the bathroom are done.
The painter's original plan was to paint the bedrooms first and then the living room. But we've asked him to please do the living room first so that we have someplace to sit. So he should be starting on that tomorrow. That's when things really get exciting!