Writer’s vacation: Painting the house – day 6

Stopping by to post on my way out to scrape. Again.

Six days of scraping. You’d think it would be one of those mindless endeavors that allows you to think. At least I did. And in a way it is/was/has been. I’ve found myself thinking about all sorts of random garbage. You know, detritus that bubbles up from the subconscious. Disturbingly, the largest bubble belonged to Perez. I had a chicken/egg debate running as an internal dialog, which needs the other more? Not sure what the subconscious was telling me. Monday was spent reliving the minutia of a caustic working environment four years removed. I think I prefer the non-introspective hours at my desk or with a laptop to the self-deprecating time spent scraping and painting.

Today, I’m on a break from scraping and have started priming. I’m encouraged by the progress I made in a short time. In fact, I finished the priming I needed to do (alas, I still need to scrape the front of the house. My next step). Priming and painting should be a better experience. If I could just delete the Nicole Ritchie pregnancy undercurrent, my day would be brilliant.

“Laying Low in Eli Nevada”, save me.

Writing has fizzled the last couple of nights. I need to start right after the kids are in bed. That said, Talledega Nights and a snout full of Rioja was exactly what I needed after scrapinging in the rain and listening to the Seasquawks give one to the Cards.

19 days remaining (445:42:32)

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