The painter never showed up today. And he never called.
I know he will be back tomorrow . . . I think he will be back tomorrow . . . I have no reason to believe he will not be back tomorrow. (Will he be back tomorrow?)
I will be relieved when the painting is finished. My room has one unpainted wall and then the Boy Cave is the final task. And it’s a pretty big task.
I have spent so much time in that room removing items, cleaning, moving things. Paint, carpet and then we’re ready to put the house on the market. I think.
In keeping with my insidious plan to drive myself crazy, I have scheduled another appointment for myself tomorrow morning at 10:30 a.m. I wish I’d stop making Monday appointments. The precious hours between 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. on Mondays are my only “free time” anymore . . . and I keep squandering them on grown-up things like eye appointments and dental appointments. It’s maddening, really.
And now, it’s almost 2 a.m. and the eye doctor is going to scold me for having bloodshot eyes but it’s NOT MY FAULT.