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battles
February 19, 2010
Have to make a decision in the war of the paint colors�Spouse has painted various samples onto the walls and the arches, but I think I�m still tending to go too light in selecting paint chips. Not happy with any of them yet.
And he�s forcing my hand�he undertook to hire our Lawn Guy/Odd Job Man to do the actual painting. Next Thursday. So I�ve really got to deal with this. This trip, though, I�m taking a pack of the new curtains with me for comparison purposes. So even if I end up picking a shade that isn�t guaranteed to make me happy, it will at least match the curtains!
Lawn Guy/Odd Job Man just happened to drop by yesterday; he�s lining up the 2010 client roster for his lawn service, and also letting folks know that he�s expanding into exterior window-washing. (YAY, says I, because he�s certainly going to get my window business this year.)
Anyway, he happened to see the color swatches on the wall & mentioned to Spouse that he is an experienced interior and exterior painter, as well. Spouse, hating to paint nearly as much as I do, jumped on that and had him quote a price for what we want done. He�s only asking a C-note to do it, so BINGO! And, come summer, I�m gonna get him to do the gables, trim, porch floor, and awnings on the outside of the house, if he�s willing.
Honestly, though�all of this is so damned hard right now. Caught in the throes of depressive episode at the moment, with the full complement of aches, pains, exhaustion, and terminal lack of interest that goes along with it. No matter how hard I try to force myself through the motions, with the decorating, with hobbies and pastimes, or even with this posting, the gut feeling stays with me: I really just don�t care. Not interested.
And that includes friends and family, too. My family is getting together this weekend�not interested. Spouse wants to go up and visit Nephew�not interested. My best friend D. is in the area for a week�had to absolutely force myself to arrange a lunch with her. Force myself, when I KNOW that there is no better medicine than seeing her. And even then, when I had talked myself into it and called her and chatted and set it all up for next Monday�I felt like I was only doing it for �medicinal purposes�, so to speak. And even as I write this, I wonder how I�m going to summon up the energy for our visit.
I do understand, I think, the kind of stuff my little brother dealt with. The feeling that your life is all pain and no energy keeps you from being who you want to be for the people you love�prevents you from presenting yourself as the person you think they deserve to have you be. Then you despise yourself for being a disappointment to them when you fail to be that person. Your sense of worth plummets. The pain spikes. The energy dwindles even more. It feeds on itself.
I hate this f***ing disease.
And�now I�ve got to go paint shopping.
Reading: "Grace Harlowe's Return to Overton Campus", by Jessie Graham Flower (copyright 1915). Still popping in and out of "Ancient Gonzo Wisdom: Interviews with Hunter S. Thompson", edited by Anita Thompson, and "Dead By Sunset", an old Ann Rule true-crime paperback.
Surfing: virtual room painters Frankly, I�d rather be reading a book. Or sleeping. Sleeping would be good.
Listening: The voices in my head.
At Random: click here
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