Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The little engine that could
Sweeping. Dusting. Mopping. Washing. Sneezing. Pruning. Weeding. Edging. Taping. Painting. Scraping. Wheezing. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
That's pretty much been my life the past week and the reason I am MFTB (missing from the blogosphere).
As I plunge into the process of getting my home ready to sell, there have been moments of great satisfaction when it seems like progress is being made. There was also one wildly fretful episode when a gaze around the 80 year old basement was so overwhelming I fell into a dark spinning fog of high anxiety.
Cobwebs have been splitting and reproducing faster than a drunken amoeba. I cannot get the smell of latex gloves off my hands. My hair and body form a kaleidoscope of paint colors.
Yesterday I was reeling in a complete panic, crazed by the scope of work needing to be done. Then last night I watched a show called "The Hoarders" on A&E. Seeing those poor people squeezing through narrow paths etched out in the waist high debris that completely filled their homes, my vigor and determination returned.
In a random flick of the channel my tasks suddenly seemed very doable. You gotta love synchronicity.