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Time flies when your knee's on ice

I can't believe it's been over a month since I felt the urge to write anything. Ah well, that's the top benefit of working for free. To be honest I've been pretty lazy about nurturing my creative side.

Well, I did paint the kitchen and living room. One piece of advice - don't paint your walls red. Sure, it's gorgeous. Sure, the ruby sheen has the exact effect I was hoping for - exotic yet homey, startling yet comforting. I should have listened, however, when the Aubuchon hardware guy gently warned me away from red. "You'll need gray primer," he said. "And some really good rollers. And several coats. And make sure there are no defects in the plaster."

"No problem!" I breezily replied. I was gung ho for red walls.

Oh. My. God. He was not kidding. I mean, after two coats of gray primer (specially tinted), three $9.00 roller pads, and SEVEN coats of the perfect shade of red later, I had my red walls. Well, two of them anyway. After 4 straight weekends of painting, I decided that two opposing red walls were just lovely next to the two opposing off-white walls. Really. The kitchen was cake, comparatively - even taking off all the cabinet doors and hardware and cleaning the beadboard with vinegar before painting was easy compared to the dreaded red experiment. But, I got my desired red walls which indeed make a nice backdrop for my big fish tank and are, for me anyway, extremely aesthetically pleasing.

I also began a task that seemed easy at first - tiling my kitchen floor. My floor and my bathroom are covered in the same ugly ca. 1950 linoleum that I'm sure used to be white, but is now several different shades of yellow. The effect is a hideous pee-stained look. My best friend Heather, who has been my renovation muse since I bought this money trap of a house, motivated me to purchase black and white tiles and supplies with some of my meager tax return and get going. That first weekend we worked with a manic vigor, making a few newbie mistakes and finally getting the hang of cutting the tiles and laying the adhesive. Of course, all during this kitchen floor project, everything that had previously occupied my kitchen floor - the island table, microwave cart, dog food bin, trash can, litter box, etc - was rehomed in either my dining room or the living room. We'd been living around these items uncomfortably all week, but with the goal in mind. The second weekend she came over again with the intent of finishing the project. I popped out to procure some refreshment and before I even stepped into the store my cell phone rang. "I need to go to the emergency room," I heard a plaintive little voice say. "I cut my finger." I rushed home to find that Heather in her haste had gotten sloppy for a moment, not using the metal straight-edge to guide the knife, and sliced her fingertip to shreds. Needless to say the project was off for the time being. (note - Heather is okay and amazingly took only three stitches.)

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There is another reason besides lack of pay why I've been unmotivated to write. In late February (after painting my walls) I fell directly on my knees on the ice at my parents' driveway. It hardly hurt; I felt lucky to only have to dust a little snow off my pants. Almost an entire week later I woke up in agony. One of my knees was swollen like a cantaloupe. I tried to let it heal on its own, knowing that for knees - like toes - there's really nothing the doctor can do. After a week of excruciating pain I gave in and made an appointment and sure enough, there was nothing they could do for it.

Now, I'm overweight, that's no secret. In fact, in the past 6 or 8 months I've put on even more weight. However I have always been relatively active. Even though 5 mile jogs - hell, any jogs - are a thing of my thinner past, a nice walk on my lunch break is a daily routine for me. This knee thing was really deflating my spirit. Having to hobble up and down stairs was a total drag. Laundry was a nightmare. Getting in and out of the car was a hassle. Getting up and down from my computer chair at work was particularly painful. Even sleeping was uncomfortable. I started developing pain in my other joints with the effort it took to readjust my movement. I started to despair that I would ever be normal again, that I would always walk with a gimpy gait.

After many, many weeks I'm finally about 95% healed. Since this orthopedic nightmare has ended, I am raring to go. This past weekend's lovely weather was the launchpad I needed to get going again. I spent it raking year-old leaves, sawing through gianormous pine tree branches that have fallen in my yard, riding bikes and walking to the playground with my son, etc. I have been walking daily, and with a renewed energy. I've dropped seven pounds without even trying to drop seven pounds.

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I'm feeling pretty good, and I can't wait to get out in my garden. Last summer through fall when my brother's tumor returned, I spent as much time with him and my family as possible. Gardening and home improvement were the last things on my mind. For the first time since I bought my house in 2002, I left leaves on the ground to be covered up by snow.

This spring, I have a determined sense of purpose. I've decided to sell my house and move closer to where I work in Portsmouth. I have a new goal, one that is very important to me, and I know I must get off my ass and finish these renovation projects if I want to make any money at all on this house. I need to make that garden look as beautiful as possible. I need my floors and walls to shimmer with beauty.

My knee is healed, my garden is beckoning, the kitchen floor is nearly finished and my waistband is looser.

And I finally feel like writing something.

Posted by Bullyland at 09:35 AM | Comments (6)