I just spent 4 hours scraping and sanding an 8 by 9 foot bathroom. And when i tell you that a part of me wishes i had just moved to a newer house, I’m not talking about a small part of me. But i did it, and now i’m so sore and tired and angry, i’ll have to live in this house til i die so i can feel it was worth it.

You might remember that my house is over 100 years old. I can’t help it, i love the character of an old house. Even knowing that it comes with its own issues.

First there was the bit with the the pantry. Then The dead raccoon.  And The kitchen cabinets.  Then there was the beginning of this same room (the last adventure). Not to mention the bugs i battled, first with geckos and then with chemicals. The yard work. Or the squirrels who had sex in the soffits over my bed for an entire spring – annoying as hell and made me feel lonely besides.

Mind you, i’ve never lived in a brand new house. I’m sure they come with their own issues. Probably no mushrooms or dead trash pandas, but still… issues.

After $2500 and 2 weeks worth of days without a shower, we are finally in the home stretch. Old, ugly wall thingies are down. Holes spackled. Nasty, peeling paint chipped and sanded as much as is possible (This house is old enough that the bathroom used to be a mudroom, so it has lap siding for walls with 100 years of paint on them.) It is probably still going to look a bit rough, even with fresh paint, but i keep telling myself, that will go with the nautical theme. I have bought towel hooks that are whales (And tails of whales), toilet paper and towel holders that are anchors, and i even bought a new switch plate with a sexy mermaid on it (Don’t judge me.) It will look better when it’s finished, tho still nothing like a brand new house.

And that’s ok with me. I love that this cottage has character. I mean, i’m a character, so it suits. And as much as a day of painting prep has sucked, it was good for some exercise and for my creative psyche. Plus, my son and i got to spend some time together. (I would like to say we spent it discussing important things, but mostly we spent it singing pirate songs from Muppet Treasure Island and at least a dozen verses of Mah Nà Mah Nà, )   So it wasn’t a total loss.

But now that i have been sitting for an hour or so, i’m pretty sure my son is going to have to unfold me off the couch like a rusty lawn chair. Or at least bring me a muscle relaxer. I mean, i can barely raise my arms from sanding the ceiling. And my back and legs feel…  well, they feel like i’ve been climbing up and down a ladder all day. No big surprise there. Suffice it to say that i am sore all over and stiff as a baccalà. Damn, my exercise regime of tap dancing and planks didn’t prepare me for this. Go figure.

Maybe i should consider just giving up and buying a newer house, but, realistically, even if i did, i’d still be sore tomorrow. So i guess i’m screwed either way. Better to save my money and travel more.

Well, here comes my son now. I told him of my situation, and once he stops laughing, he’s going to help me up off the couch and get me some aspirin. So, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be signing off and, like an elderly sloth, making my way to bed. Once my son stops laughing.

Which should be soon.

Any minute now.

Still waiting.

Crap.