Action
For every action, there is a reaction.
This Grammie today is feeling the reaction of being the self proclaimed interior designer, aka: a painter.
What I am feeling is not unknown discomfort in the ole body. It is just reminding me that perhaps painting my bedroom porch should pretty much fill the bill to do painting for 2023. I cannot fail, if I do not try. Each of the days it took me to open that quart can of paint took resolve. I had unlimited amount of moral support from Dennis. I needed every bit of it.
I am now on to taking a few days of sitting back and letting my gluts get back some feelings to them from being in the bent over position.
I am not the only one in this household to push it to the limit. Each day Dennis does good local effort at the blue barn acre. Though the lopper we bought at Harbor Freight was not expense, the key is that . . . it is sharp. Being able to mow beneath trees and not have them slap you in the face . . . priceless. The huge pile of brush that nephew Brett pushed together, has now had Ryan the hauler look at and give Dennis a price for it to go away. Sweet. After that, any small pile of brush we pull together can be burned. Brett’s pile is too close to homes that are to the south of us.
We remain in a heat advisory. Not just for us older folks. It can sneak up onto anyone like a bad thug.
Hello Kersten . . . welcome home. Kluge would have been all over you like a bee wanting to sting you.
Right back at you tomorrow.