We’re at that point in the house work where we’re finally seeing progress and remarkable change, but feeling utterly exhausted and in all kinds of pain.
I miss knitting a little in the evenings, but I just can’t do anything remotely detail-oriented or delicate with my hands at the moment.
And despite a daily shower, I still carry with me some of the wall colors.
But the painful parts are often unexpected and are the main factor to curtail any leisurely handiwork.
Our weeks-long back ordered kitchen sink finally arrived and we installed it immediately (and oh so securely) only to find it was defective. The drain hole was more oval than round. We called the big blue and yellow Swedish store and complained. They said they were already made aware that a batch of them were defective and the new ones (also back ordered) likely would be as well.
I’m tired of doing dishes in the bathroom sink. I got through the first day or two pretending to live in a seedy flophouse full of beat-down musicians and washed-up artists, then felt thanks that my ancestors were the tenement dwellers and not me (not yet).
So I tore that Domsjo a new one.
After more than an hour of aggressive filing, and several bruises later, the hole became round enough.
(In the end, we still had to call a plumber to hook it up, thanks to the previous owner’s pipe-y hacks.)
I’m thinking how I’d like to put the previous owner and a certain blue and yellow big store in a sink hole right about now…
ASTITCHMATISM 