Other People's Surgery

I'm usually reluctant to write too much about my husband. He's a fairly introverted and private person. But I wanted to write about his experience mainly because I'd gone through something similar somewhat recently. As my six readers most likely know, I got hip labral repair surgery just 18 months ago. I blogged about it all--the pain, the recovery, the depression. Angry Crutches Game Face emerged as a sort of anthem of our time...well, not really, but because of it I felt slightly better about feeling fucking terrible.

This time, it was RJ's turn.

Two days ago he had surgery on his right heel to break up a bone spur and relieve some terrible plantar fasciitis. He'd been living with this pain for several years, almost as long as I'd known him. And perhaps due to the recent Medicaid expansion, he was able to have the surgery without sending us into terrible medical debt.

The foot. Poor foot. 

Lucky, I have had the time to be home with him, helping with whatever he needs. It's strange and difficult to see such a big, powerful guy first full of drugs, then in terrible pain, and now entering into the very real feelings of frustration, boredom and uselessness. Unlike my surgery, which was on a joint, RJ should be able to get around pretty well in a week or two, and at least be able to go back to work in a limited capacity. When he was released from the surgery with his big black boot, the surgeon told me he could walk on his foot at once with no damage to it. Jealous!

What they recommend with his type of repair is that you get a nerve block, which completely numbs your leg from the knee down and can last from 1 1/2 to two days. The anesthesiologist hooks up an ultrasound machine, locates the nerve, and then carefully injects the numbing agent around both sides of the nerve. This was pretty cool because you could watch the doctor perform the whole thing.

Just before, RJ had been given some meds to help him relax. Those lovely drugs are the best part of surgery, I think. Instantly I saw his eyes glaze over, and then out of his mouth comes this:

RJ: What do you call a boomerang that doesn't come back?
Nurses: What?
RJ: A stick. (Hee hee)

On his "four beer buzz," he told several more jokes before being wheeled off into the OR. Luckily for RJ, he was only put into "twilight" in terms of anesthesia. So, while not aware of what was going on in surgery, he would spend way less time coming out of it in recovery.

The few times I have been into surgery, they've knocked me completely out. I'm a lightweight with drugs and alcohol anyway, so when I come out of it, it takes hours and I struggle with nausea, dry mouth, and insanity. I. hate. it.

RJ didn't have ANY of that. He was what he called, "fuzzy" for a few hours, but he had no nausea or vomiting, so we made the two hour trip from Durango back to Creede and were home by 1:30 in the afternoon. We got him upstairs resting comfortably, and he complained about how weird the numb leg felt--as though you had a limb that was constantly asleep.

We'd been told that his nerve block would last about 36 hours. His lasted just over 12. I mean, he's a big ass dude, so this wasn't totally surprising. I had dozed off a bit around 9pm when he woke me in terrible pain. He spent the next 24 hours taking the blessed Oxy, not sleeping, and trying not to throw up from the intense pain.  He described it as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his heel. Thankfully, yesterday in the early evening, the intensity began to subside and he could finally sleep. Today has been much less of a battle. He's bored. He's not in much pain until he moves the foot, and hopefully in the next week he will be able to get around fairly normally with his boot.

Das Boot, which looks somewhat like this. But has a little pump on it for more stability.

It seems that the big difference between our respective surgeries is pain and recovery. While I didn't have too much intense pain, because my repair was on a joint, I could bare way less weight on my leg. I was on crutches for a full two weeks and had very limited movement. RJ seems to have had much more pain initially, but his mobility should return quickly.

In any case, the hope is that he will eventually be in WAY less pain in the long run and stop getting fatigued at 3pm because it feels like he's been standing on a nail all day.

This wouldn't be a Mann's World if I didn't post something about the house, even if a it's small thing:

Yesterday the parents of some friends of mine, who own a fine dining restaurant in Dallas, saved and brought to Creede several cool wooden wine boxes at my request. I planned on possibly using them as cabinets in the bathroom. Well...they look friggin' rad! They fit our house and our aesthetic, were cheap (read: free) and super easy to install. I did it myself in less than half an hour. Had I not had a connection to these boxes, you can usually call a larger liquor store--I inquired at Argonauts in Denver--and they'll sell them to you for cheap. They quoted me $5. Anyway...

Behold the majesty:

An elegant place for your petite tp. 

Stuff we regularly use in the open box, the other two contain storage.

Death, TV, and a Guest Room

As I sit at my desk, breathing in the fumes from the polyurethane and stain I used today, I can't help but think...what a fucking week.

But first...this is mostly a blog about my house, and though we've been on pause for the last month, RJ's brother mentioned recently that he wanted to come down for the Super Bowl this Sunday. This, in addition to another friend of RJ's who takes one winter weekend a year to go snowboarding at the nearby Wolf Creek Ski area, wanting to visit soon. Currently, we can provide a comfy loveseat that would likely suffice for someone under 30. But, dammit, isn't this what being a responsible adult with your own house is for?! Providing pleasant accommodations for your buddies! So, this weekend, I cleaned out the guest bedroom (aka tool storage) and prepared it for some flooring. Sunday, RJ installed more of the lovely blue stained pine we have in many places in the house. I put the first coat of polyurethane on Monday, with a second coat going on 24 hours later. By Weds., we'll move the guest bed out of storage and into the room. Combined with a kick ass little desk/table thing I picked up, we will now be able to provide a semi-finished sleeping experience for our visitors.

That's the good news. That, and I was on a network tv show last week, which was pretty cool. Yay, Acting!

In other news, we had to put our giant pup Buford down this past Tuesday. He was an amazing and loving English Mastiff we had for over 5 years. He was around 10 or 11. His age was only a guess because when RJ got him through his brother in 2008, the shelter said he was 4 or 5. Large dogs like the English Mastiff, have a life span of 6-10 years. Not long at all. Being so big is murder on their hearts and joints. So, for a giant dog, he was doing pretty well. But in the last year, his arthritic knees were clearly causing him pain. We put him on an anti-inflammatory as well as paid medication, but for the last few weeks, it didn't seem to be helping much. A couple of weeks ago, his back right ankle swelled up like a tennis ball and he could barely put any weight on it. It was around this time that he started hiding behind the dining room table instead of on his bed, which he's never done. He was clearly in pain and facing the end. We could either keep him around for us and watch him totally lose the ability to walk, or end his pain. We chose the latter. Tuesday morning, he was spoiled with treats and hot dogs, and I spent a long time with his big head in my lap. Around 11am, a couple of friends came by and helped us get Buford and his bed into the back of a truck. RJ rode with him in the back to our vet, Dr. Howard. They administered the pink vial of death in the back of the truck. Buford was a champ. Being as old as he was, his veins kept collapsing, so it took a while to find a good vein. But he remained calm throughout the pricking ordeal. We stroked his sweet face, while the injection slowly went in. He gave a couple of sighs, like he would do when I would rub his ears with my thumbs (his favorite thing) and let go. What a sweet, sweet doggie. We assume he is wherever doggies go, "running" after something little and fuzzy. Rest in Peace, dear Buford.

In addition to being sweet, he was also hilarious.

Then, early Saturday afternoon, I received a call from my mom that my last living grandparent, Bill Nunn, had died that morning. This was not a surprise. He was 91 and a half years old and had lost my grandma early last year. Honestly, we were all surprised he lasted nearly a year after her. My mom had called me earlier last week to tell me he'd been moved to hospice.

He spent his last year reading a lot, and having a lot of trouble with his short term memory. It was simply old age forgetfulness. One of my favorite memories of Grandpa Bill was the fact that up until a couple of years ago when he had to be attached to an oxygen machine because of emphysema (he smoked for over 50 years--don't smoke, kids!), he would get up in the morning, get on his rowing machine and then lift weights. He loved black coffee and sandwiches. He preferred to converse with you in the kitchen of their house in Terrace Park because, my mother told me, he could hear best in that room. For as long as I can remember, my grandpa had worn hearing aids. They would buzz and sing out loud every once in a while. His obit is here.

Toasting at their 60th wedding anniversary in June of 2004.

Together again. Or what you will.

Like I've said, it's been a pretty crazy week. I head out Thursday to Ohio to attend Grandpa Bill's memorial. I was unable to attend my grandma's because of a show. Then, in opposite land, I'll continue on to North Carolina to visit my best girlfriend and her 6 week old son, Isaac. Life goes on.

I recently read an article about Russians who just couldn't believe the one word answer most American's give to the question, "How are you?"  A Russian wanted to tell you EXACTLY how they were--bunions, divorces and all. Whereas Americans use the phrase mostly as a simple greeting. So...how am I? I'm okay. I've been lucky that death hasn't come to my immediate family in much of a tragic way. I've always been able to accept death in old age, when one has lived a long and full life. But one's awareness of death does eat away at you a bit. You can't help but think about your own mortality. And that a part of your own life is over. About 14 months ago, my grandparents moved out of the house and little town they'd lived in for 60 years. No more staying in their house for a visit. No more gatherings in the kitchen and eating Capt Crunch and riding the old Schwinn to the local pool. That is what I miss. Those little things are gone and it's time to make some new memories. As a result, I am kind of tired, and sad, and just...ugh. But looking forward to getting out of Creede for a bit.

Okay, enough Bummy McBummerton.

Come visit, friends! The guest accommodations will continue to improve. We can hang out around the kitchen table. I'll even pick up some Capt. Crunch!

And now...pictures!

Bathroom door now matches everything else.

Right after I cleaned. Ahhhhhhh.

Sweet little table I picked up and distressed, since the paint was peeling on the top pretty badly anyway. We really can put this anywhere.

Bedroom door. Voila!

Floor and first coat of poly down!

I wake up to these two animals eyeballin' me!

In: A Love Story* (*first draft)

Well, well, well. WELL, well, well. We are in the mutha fuckin' house!!! (Literally.)

So much has happened in the last few weeks and oddly (or not) I've found it really hard to crank out this post. A post, one would think, that this story has been leading up to. It is probably partly physical and mental exhaustion. It's been almost a week and I don't think it's quite sunken in for either of us yet. Plus, it's been SO cold in Creede lately that we've spent most of the time in the cozy upstairs of the bedroom and tv room. The house is well insulated, but the main room has so many windows and it's been below zero at night, so brrrrr.

And like I've said before, I never wanted to be just a "lister offer" of things that have happened over the past few weeks. I find that pretty boring as a reader. But the final push has been...like birthing a child. (Like, I said LIKE, for those who actually HAVE birthed a child and are laughing at me right now.) But you wait. Sometimes for longer than your expected due date. You waaaaaait. And in the end, you've done all you can and it's now dependent on outside factors.

Washer and Dryer. They work and everything!

The Sun/Laundry Room. Complete with sleeping, elderly dog.

TV room. Boxes of books and nice glassware.

My l'il office. Much to do, much to do.

Bath.

We spent our first night here the Saturday before Christmas. Our plumber arrived in the early afternoon to hook everything up and left around 8pm. Alas, nothing is ever easy. The city turned on the water a few days before at the request of the plumber--to make sure that if there is any sediment in the main line, it is flushed out into a bucket instead of into your brand new pipes. The water hadn't been turned on in at least three years, so it took quite some doing. The city had to come back the next day and do some light digging in order to thaw everything out. I worried myself sick about this and ended up smudging the house again just to feel like I had some control. Hippie control. It worked. Maybe. Who knows. But I sure felt better and that's what's important. PS. Hearing water moving under the house is my new favorite sound. And that's usually a bad thing.

Positive #3 (of many too numerous to list): Having a place for all your shit. I have been so happy to throw away boxes because, other than the occasional out of town job, I don't expect to be moving in the immediate future. I've been a nomad for my entire adult life and I love having a place to land. I'm used to, and even thrilled by, living out of suitcases from time to time. But not all the time. This is like your real, personal storage space and a whole lot prettier.

Sorry for all the blown out window pics. It's a sunny Colorado day. Living Room! Art wall continually growing. Note lack of trim and baseboard.

Come on over for a sammich.

Sleepy room (with a now inappropriate color of comforter cover).

Positive #2: If you have propane as your main energy source, having an on-demand water heater is "da bomb". You never run out of hot water so you can fill up a large antique tub with hoooooot water. Luxury, I tell you. That was one thing we splurged on as it is over twice the price of a standard water heater. BUT, saves you a lot of money in the long run because it requires way less propane.

Positive #1: Having your own home. (Duh, right?) I'm sure those of you who have one can attest to this feeling. At one moment it's overwhelming because you can't call your landlord to get something fixed if it's broke. But in another moment--so gratifying that this place is YOURS. I see both of us taking more care with things, also because we literally made this house from nothing. Anyone else would have bought the property and torn down the house. Only my husband thought it was saveable. I am now really curious to see the photos that were taken of it at its worst. I was not allowed to see these initially because RJ was afraid I would punch him in the face for taking on such a monstrosity and he was probably right. Only after we started on the outside of the house this May, did I really start to come around. Only then, did the project felt less like a burden and more like an achievable goal.

This story isn't over. As the title suggests it's more like a first draft. There are still many boxes out, but they mainly contain all the books that don't have a bookshelf yet to live in. There are outlets with no covers (on backorder from our delightful hardware store). There are no doors or drawers for the cabinets--hell, we still need a couple of cabinets. We need trim and baseboard in most rooms except the bedroom. The guest bedroom is painted...but has no flooring, trim or light fixtures. The downstairs bathroom is even less done than that. But the house is liveable--complete with all those things that most of us (and me even a year ago) take for granted. We've got running water, electricity, washer/dryer, and enthusiasm. The 180'' shower curtain just arrived today for the antique clawfoot tub, so we can get the monstrous circular curtain rod up and stop those ridiculous European baths ;) But on the flip side, there is nothing quite like a nice hot bath in a large tub. No, sir...not much like it.

As there are infinitely more drafts to come, I will continue to post on house happenings and poor person home ownership. Maybe I'll even start talking more about acting (or maybe not--yawn) or CO mountain town living in general. Though, as a home stylist I admire says, design isn't ever complete. Your style keeps changing and growing and so will this house. I'm just so g.d. happy to finally have a palette to work from.

Door knobs. Installed by yours truly.

I like to call this the Half Kitchen. It's halfway there but at least has all the components of producing and consuming food.

It's...Almost...Here...

Oh...oh...oh...so very, very close. The move in is practically upon us, people! We can smell it, taste it and reallllly really hope that the next few days are jam packed with making it happen.

That said, I do want to make sure everyone understands the difference between the house being "liveable" and the house being "finished". There are many, many things that still need to be "finished" but are not essential to us being able to live there.

The Basics:
1. Heat
2. Running Water
3. Electricity
4. A place to make the foods

Heat, we have. Word!

Our friend who has been doing the electrical is spending most of the day tomorrow installing the remaining outlets, switches and lighting fixtures. Electricity is flowing to the house, but it needs to be available throughout the house.

RJ is finishing up the walls in the kitchen and installing the most essential cabinet skeleton (frames that have shelves, but not yet doors or drawers). He will then get the sink and dishwasher in place so that our plumber can come in and hook everything up to water and gas--the kitchen, upstairs bath and washing machine/dryer. And another friend of RJ who is a tile expert will make sure we have tile on the countertops.

All this should happen in the next several days. The internet folks are coming to hook stuff up/transfer service Tuesday, with Direct TV doing the same on Thursday. So, between now and then, in theory, we will be in. I've been slowly packing and moving boxes from the cabin to our house. And on Monday, we drove up to the Denver area, rented a moving truck and took a whole shipment of furniture and appliances back down to Creede, narrowly escaping death on 285 South.

Many things could go wrong. We've already had a bitch of a day today. RJ's fuel pump died and he couldn't get started at the house until early afternoon because he spent most of the morning replacing said fuel pump. The plumber knows we need him to come in the next few days...hopefully he will...as he's a busy guy.

I am so, so excited and also still tearing my hair out. Every whisper of a hiccup sounds like a scream. But, I went through a bunch of boxes yesterday determining whether they needed to stay in storage or be dispersed around the house. I realized that, at the end of the day, I didn't want to leave! I wanted to stay in this house. MY house. OUR house, that we have created together. It's pretty damn cool.

But...back to the list of major things that will not be finished until later due to time and/or money:

1. Downstairs bathroom
2. Guest bedroom and closet
3. Bar dividing kitchen and dining area
4. Trim windows/doorways downstairs and baseboard everywhere that's been polyurethaned (except the bedroom, which is done).
5. Cedar siding on the addition/prime and paint it. (Spring project!)
6. Finish Stairs (they are functional, just not yet pretty).
7. Shelves

The Main Thing: RJ has to go back to work. For actual money. All of these things I can work on during the day or we can attempt in the evening, but we gots to eat. Thankfully he has a job in town to go back to, but we are pretty paralyzed with brokeness at the moment. Not that we've every had a lot, but we don't even have just a little.

You may have noticed there are no pictures on this particular blog post...I'm saving those for the next one in which I hope I will be writing FROM the house. But I will say this so you can use your imagination: we have couches, some desks, my childhood dresser, RJ's childhood dining room table and a lot of stuff to be put away in various places coming soon. But it is happening. IT'S HAPPENING.

Okay, I must go and await more anxiety-ridden dreams.

Until the next one, friends!

And From the Ashes...

I've got to say, having heat in the house REALLY helps morale. I mean, shit. Working in barely 40 degrees as opposed to 55-60 is like you're outside without the fresh air or mountains to look at. You have a constant chill and life just looks a little bit more bleak.

BUT, after a little tweak to the furnace (it's a few years old and had a fan that wouldn't shut off), our house is getting nice and toasty. Even though it's set around the same temp as the log cabin we currently live in, it already feels much warmer--at least less drafty and chilled.

And today...was quite productive. We finished the miserable job of insulating under the house, that we started last night. RJ did most of the grunt work but I got him anything he needed. It's the least I can do after insulating the entire house! Though doing it in a crawl space is a special level of hell. Though we can already feel a huge difference.

The Access Hole in the closet of the guest bedroom. (Pervy jokes about access hole commencing in 3...)

Unda tha houuuuuse!

I also got another wall primed. Then...it was on to a lot of small but mighty things: I moved the rest of the flooring (which will go in the addition downstairs in a couple days) out of the elements from the front yard  into the garage. It was wrapped in plastic, but we're supposed to get dumped on with snow between tonight and tomorrow night, so better safe than sorry.

We raised the back door up about a half inch or so. We hadn't taken into account the thickness of the flooring that will be installed and though a pain in the ass to have to move the entire structure, the door will now open smoothly. We also put the doors in for the downstairs bath and bedroom. Those will be the rooms we finish after we move in, so having a barrier from the unfinishedness is a super duper.  Plus, all this makes it feel like a real ass house.

Doooooooooor.

I also prepped the upstairs for polyurethane tomorrow. Meaning...I spent over an hour dusting. All the sanding of the main floor downstairs created SO much dust everywhere (including upstairs), it took  well over an hour to get it all up.

Tomorrow is the big poly day for me (I probably won't need that drink after work) while RJ possibly/hopefully goes to build some of the cabinets and counters for the kitchen in a shop outside of town. Again, a lovely perk of Creede being Creede is that a friend can order you cabinet supplies at cost!

It's happening people!

****I also want to give a sincere thank you to all the folks who sent me nice notes and comments about my last post. I was in a bad way, and this blog has been a great way for me to let off steam. Thanks for all the kind words and support. I love you, friends.

The journey continues. (With the help of a daily adult beverage.)

Shit Gets Real: You're Not Supposed to Talk About Money

I've always been told it's not polite to talk about money and I've mostly ignored that sentiment in my life and have been comfortable doing so. When I was younger, I often thought this "rule" only applied to rich people so others didn't know how much they "had". But now I realize it was also probably to save people from the knowledge of how little they had. Regardless of either reason, I'm REALLY going to talk about it. Like, right now:

This house, this house thishousethishouse. It is getting so close to being liveable. So close. And we are...so broke. The problem with being pretty poor in the first place and buying a house is that you have to find a house that's affordable. And in this case, what was affordable was also...a completely unlivable dump. Hence the construction loan. We will be OK, we really will. RJ has work for the entire winter but hasn't been able to work on the project because he's the main builder for our house. And all he gets from that is sweat equity. We have had SO many people helping, and continue to have help. Creede is great for that. But most days it's just him and me. And I do what I can but sometimes, I just don't have the skill to help. Also, shit happens--the flooring nailer breaks so you have to postpone a certain project. There's a snowstorm and the plumber can't make it. RJ has told me many times, when I've asked for a time frame, that he just can't give me one. There's an approximate goal but it is dependent on so many things working the way they are supposed to and they rarely do. And when you've got one to two people working, this basically fucks up your entire day.

And then, there's me. I'm paying all the bills right now. Alllllllll of them. A little background: Career-wise, I've been lucky over the past three years. Scarily lucky because I have had acting work for 75% or more of the year for three CONSECUTIVE years, which is AHMazing. In theatre, a dream gig is somewhere like Oregon Shakespeare Festival, which pays really well (for theatre) and is, at best, 10 months of employment out of the year. While not (yet!) working at OSF, I have had the privilege to either have jobs that have had co-productions that have extended my contracts. Or, I have had work that all but overlapped. For example, earlier this year I had a job that ended on a Sunday and a new one that started the following Tuesday. Baller!

As an actor, you can start to get comfortable with this sort of thing. And I have made an effort to be so grateful for the work, and to not take it for granted or expect anything. But there is a truly dark and desperate side to this profession. And that is, in the back of your mind--ALWAYS--is the thought (no, the worry) that the jobs will run out and you'll be in a spot where you're not working for a while. For many reasons I have little to no control over, I have currently hit that lovely place called a dry spell. For instance, I'm union and smaller theatres will often take an equally good non-union person over you, or they just don't have the money for the contracts in the first place*.  Also, sometimes you're just not right for a role or a season.  I've done a couple on-camera jobs lately (awesome) but those don't necessarily bring you lots of cash. RJ told me the other day that when he was a kid, he thought that everyone on tv was a millionaire. He now knows that that is rarely true.

All this leads me to the emotional stress of being truly broke for the first time in a loooooong time. When I say broke, I mean almost no savings, no cash, and I'm using my one, low interest credit card for lots of things, which I HATE doing. That thing is for emergencies, not for living.

I'm realizing that one of the reasons I started this blog is to give people a taste of building a house when you have little to no money. And what that is like. What do you have to be creative about to make it work (as Tim Gunn would say). It makes me think about the housing crash a few years ago when people were getting loans with unfixed interest rates that they actually couldn't afford. And the day came when they were utterly screwed, just to get a piece of comfort--a home. We made a huge effort not to fall into that and honestly, in the long run, this house is an incredible investment. The house will be worth more than 3 times what we paid for it and we have a fixed 15 year mortgage that, if we had our normal income, would be quite a reasonable monthly payment.

Now is the fucking hard part. This is the part that causes me to spontaneously cry in the middle of my almost done house. That makes me argue with my partner about time and money and crave the day when I can just. be. comfortable. When I can get up in the morning with my pets and my sleeping husband and have a nice cup of coffee and maybe buy a nice table cloth for the dining room table. I am so tired right now. Tired of knowing that I have $196.87 in my SAVINGS account. Tired of getting up and staining flooring. Tired of trying to be a cheerleader on the job that never seems to end. You think that these projects are going to be so invigorating and exciting. And that they sometimes are. But I can't help fantasizing how this process would be different if I had chosen a career (or a husband with a career) that actually made an average, comfortable living. This has mainly been buffered by the artistic work I've been lucky enough to be paid to do. A lot can be said for the impact emotional and creative riches have on your state of mind. But when you don't have that, life can seem pretty grim sometimes. And I (we) will be okay. It's looking good that I will be back at Creede Rep for the summer/fall next year. And who knows what opportunities will pop up before then. But moving into the holiday season of family and commercialism and giving and receiving, I struggle with my self-worth, my abilities, my...life. This is what it meant, when adults told you as a kid, that being a grownup is hard.

So...send good thoughts, friends. It'll be okay. But being someone trained to live "in the moment," all I want to do right now is scream.

(Update: Today is a better day and I'm back to being pretty excited about things and all that jazz. Plus, I've had lots of kind words from many of you and it's so good to hear. :D ALSO: The plumber is coming this afternoon to hook up the furnace and hopefully the upstairs bathroom. Comfortable pooping commencing soon!)

(Update #2: My husband just texted me, "The furnace is a go!!!" Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!)

Talk to the hand, Life!

 *Drop my union card, you might say. For many reasons this is a terrible idea at this time in my life and I'll explain another time.

I see the light. Sort of. It has paint on it.

Pro.Gress.

I noticed today that my toenails were long. Longer than I'd ever had them. I hadn't noticed it. The majority of my days consist of getting up, taking the dog out, making breakfast, heading to the house to work, coming back home for dinner, zoning in front of the computer, reading (maybe) and falling asleep. Sometimes a good hour or two before RJ comes up. I can't actually remember most of the time, I'm too tired.

Today represented the best and worst of the overall progress. First...The Best: We started painting. Most of it can probably be finished in the next few days. One of the processes you go through for just plain, painted walls is: 1) drywall 2) drywall tape the seams 3) 2-3 layers of mud, which you sand smooth after it drys so you have a smooth wall. A reason why a lot of houses have textured walls is because it's easier to hide the imperfections of this process. 4) prime 5) paint. Some of the walls need some touching up with the mud (which has to dry and be sanded) before I can prime and paint them. BUT. Our ceiling downstairs is pretty much done except for a quick second coat. And it's a glorious color called brandywine (kind of a jewel color of red and purple). We had an early idea to wallpaper the ceiling but good/cool wallpaper is around $30 a roll. And a single roll doesn't go very far so it just wasn't in the budget. A colorful wall is a great and cheap way to mix things up.

The Worst: The downstairs wood flooring. It's different from the upstairs blue stained pine that I was sanding and staining. RJ got it from a friend of his who had been sitting on it for many years and decided to let us use it. It is very narrow and it took 2-3 guys about 3 1/2 hours to get not even 5 feet across. It'll look great but it'll take days to put it all down and our house isn't even that big. And we most likely won't have three people working on it either. Dammit to hell. And once it's all laid down it has to be sanded, stained and polyurethaned. 

Woah...could it be Sunday already? I actually fell asleep before finishing this blog post. That's how I roll lately folks. And now...it's the Broncos game and I'm a wee drunk. Here's some pictures. PEACE!

See you guys, I do actually do stuff.

Beginnings of the downstairs floor.

The crazy ceiling color. It looks way more pink in this photo.

Work it.

FLOOR!

Someday my furniture will come...