Yesterday, Mary and I tore apart the bathroom. We removed all the cupboards and cabinets and everything screwed to the walls. Then I plastered holes and rough spots (nowhere near done - that will take at least three days, because of some deep places that needed filling), and Mary painted.
It's a light blue with just a hint of purple to it that matches the bathroom acoutrements that I splurged on at K-Mart. There's a matching wall trim paper to go around the top. Mary is anxious to try stenciling on it, and has chosen a chaining vine-type thing that I think will look really nice to go around about waist height, just over the sink. I think she's up there right now experimenting on a piece of wall board that she painted for the purpose. When we're done, it may look like a human-type bathroom. Mary seems to like things that way.
Anyhow, that's the good part. The bad part is that the bathroom is all torn apart, and I'm not sure we will be able to get it back together today. I'm sick.
I should know better. I should know when to stop pushing myself, but it seems to be a lesson that I have to relearn periodically.
I slept nearly 12 hours (well, the part of it that I *could* sleep) and I'm still logy. My throat is 'uncomfortable'. I ache all over. All I need is one germ to pass through the house and I'm history.
I'm going to read my flist and go back to bed.