I may have made a mistake. I’ve been feeling restless these days and finding it hard to concentrate on what needs to be done, or to get motivated enough to find something on which to concentrate. So after meandering aimlessly in the house after lunch yesterday, I started a big project in my kitchen.
I was very proud of the walls in my tiny 1960’s kitchen because I painted them myself one very hot summer. It required painting a little bit every evening after a full day of work. I also spent hours holding my breath, hunched up in front of the television, painting the wooden trim engraved with ivy and vines with a small paintbrush and a toothpick. My Mom also helped me put up my fruit border. I loved the colour…once upon a time. It was 9 years! I had planned to sand and paint the cupboard doors the following Summer, but I was pregnant with Little Guy and not painting anything!
So I started with something, well, mostly simple. Someone knocked on the front door in that irritating, overly familiar “Shave & a Haircut – 6 pence” knock while I was standing on the microwave cart tearing down the bad fruit. Even though the light was on in the kitchen, and the television was on in the other room, I was hidden so I hugged the wall and prayed for whoever was at the door to leave their calling card and move on! It wasn’t until I was stretching high on my toes and poking at the paper in the corner over the fridge, with a fork, when I heard a truck roar down the street. That was about 5 minutes after the irritating knock and I realized it had probably been the courier at the door with my package.
In less than an hour, all that remained was a layer of paper stuck fast to the wall (and the memory of what the top of my fridge looks like – yikes)! So it seems I’ll be spending more time on my toes, on the chair, with a sponge and a scraper, and maybe even a fork (it never hurts to improvise). Hubby hasn’t noticed yet…but the bad fruit is gone.