I never want to see another paint brush for as long as I live. I've painted four rooms in the past few weeks. Enough is enough.
Tomorrow the house is going on the market, and I will finally be able to hang up the renovating apron. Then there's just the challenge of keeping the house clean and tidy for prospective buyers. I have threatened everyone with the prospect of being killed and buried in the back yard if they so much as think of making a mess.
We're still not sure where we're moving to, although we are actually going to scout out Colorado in a week. People have been giving me odd looks when I said we've never been to Colorado, although we fully intend to move there. Heck, we hadn't visited Pennsylvania when we moved here, twenty years ago. So we're just following our usual pattern.
To keep myself sane I've been reading Bram Stoker. I re-read Dracula, then the Lady in the Shroud, and now I'm on Lair of the White Worm.
One good thing about all this mindless work: it seems to be stimulating my imagination. I have two short stories in my mind, just waiting to pour out.