Mother Nature has not been kind this month. At least, not to me. It has rained, just enough to make everything wet, either overnight or in the morning, almost every day for the last several weeks. Since I refuse to work outside in the afternoon, after the sun has dried things out somewhat, when the heat index is over 85° F, I haven’t gotten a lot done outside. Like…nothing. Instead, I’ve been doing long-put-off chores on the inside.
I spent a good portion of Saturday climbing up and down and balancing on a warped aluminum ladder to wash some walls. Living room walls only – that’s hard work! And since we have a cathedral ceiling in the living room, that still looks like crap. I can’t reach it unless I rent scaffolding, which ain’t happening. (There are a lot of times I dislike being short.)
With chronic acute tendinitis in both hips, I spent Sunday wishing I’d only washed the bottom five feet of walls. Today, I’m bemoaning the fact that the office is up stairs and the coffee and bathroom are down stairs.
Griping and moaning aside, one of the things I like about repetitive, non-thinking work is that I can think. I mentioned on social media last week that I had an inkling for a new story…new characters, new location, the whole nine. Even a new genre for me – they call it “paranormal women’s fiction.” The main character(s) are women over 40 (I can relate!). Sometimes with a romance element, sometimes not. Scrubbing walls gave me an opportunity to plot it out. Except how to start it. I’ve “written” the opening lines a few times in my head, but nothing sounds right.
I think I need to go wash some more walls…