A Wall

It is one. A little anticlimactic and absent the drama we experienced when wielding sledge hammers, leaning on pry bars, clearing the den floor with a shovel, wheeling barrow after barrow of rock and mortar, and toting a chimney out the back door.

A wall: ho-hum.

And we painted 2,457 miles of fence today. Okay, it seemed like that much. With 30 mph winds, we also painted trees, bushes, sidewalks, the (used to be new) patio, the (formerly pristine) smoker, ourselves, and lots and lots of grass. Oopsie. When a Saturday in mid-October provides temperatures conducive to painting a nekked new fence, what's a little wind?

I've inhaled enough sheetrock dust, cement dust, oak dust, and paint spray to cough up a two-bedroom bungalow. Guest house!

Someone let the dog into the house while I was poly coating the floor, so the dog's stiff now. That's what we can look at, the stiff dog. Be right back...


Hmm, looks like we sorta spray painted him too. Who knew? My dear friend Willow polled some smart doggie people and gave me some good tips for unstiffening PolyPierre. I'm going to try a coconut oil soak first, which in tandem with a brushing is sure to work on at least the paint freckles. I just don't know, though, about that stiff fur.

Poor Charles has been trying all day to get a couple of slabs of ribs to cook in that new (speckled) smoker. He says he's hoping for something edible at 8:30 p.m. I hope I can stay awake long enough to gnaw on a few bones. Starving is my just recompense for messing with one of a man's favorite toys.

I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep:

for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.

~Psalm 4:8