Bathing

I awoke feeling particularly groggy yesterday morning and sat nursing first one, then another cup of quadspresso before I could smile enough to go out into the garden.

I had intended to get out for an early run before the heat of the day started to ramp up, but alas, it was already 8am and about 70 degrees, so I voted for a day off.

HA!

I had some tasks, started yesterday or last weekend, to complete before I could sit down and relax.  First on the list was the continuing process of painting the outside walls.  I think that, excluding the back of my neighbours garage, there are ten walls in total (seems like WAY more than that!) and I managed to paint the three largest or most complex last year (and he back of that same garage).  Unfortunately I then had wall insulation so those lovely white walls had 50-calibre bullet holes spread across them all winter.

I had painted the small garage-door wall last weekend and put one cost on the adjacent full height wall.  I had put a first coat on the front door wall on Saturday along with one on the wall that I never see… the back of the garage that only my neighbour has to look at.

So yesterday I second-coated those three walls to effectively finish the front of the house.  Seven down, three to go, but since the sun was now firmly set to BRIGHT and I had the painters version of snow-blindness, I moved to my next tasks… cutting the hedge and then cutting the grass.

Seemingly much, MUCH later in the day, I finally sank into the rare comfort of the recliner on the deck.  The sun was now low in the sky and I had ten or fifteen minutes to go before dinner emerged into the garden.

I lay there, reclining, looking up at wispy wind-blown clouds through polarised sunglasses and for a fleeting moment it was if I was laying in a warm bath, looking at the ceiling and thinking really most pleasant thoughts.