The kitchen is a disaster. Even though I haven't cooked since last weekend. Oh, yes, I also have not cleaned it in nearly a week. I haven't made my bed. Nor vacuumed. Only dressed to be seen in public one day. All of my spoons have been invested in scraping paint off the damn deck. One more day of that, I'm estimating. Then minor repairs, sanding, a good vacuuming, and then, dare I say, painting shall commence! Firstly with primer, then the pretty color. You will be happy to know that I have showered semi-regularly and fed and watered Newt. Reid has pretty much been on his own as far as food is concerned. I have been eating tomatoes in everything. And I see that it's probably about time to harvest the dozen or so peaches on the tree in the backyard. Needless to say, I am pooped. I think I have enough strength left to watch a little Netflix and drink a beer. Typing is hard when your fingers are cranky.
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