Another 12-hour day of grouting. We're headed back today to finish up the floor. Although my invention has made grouting more tolerable, it still really, really sucks. Here's a brief rundown of how I feel after six days on my knees:
My back is screaming.
My knees, I fear, will never recover.
My hands are so weak from squeezing that damned bag that petting the dog has become a chore.
My hands are soft, but only because the first few layers of skin have been ground off from the grout. (gritty, gritty grout)
My fingernails are permanently black.
My spirit is broken.
My hair is too thick and my butt's too big.
Ok, the last couple have nothing to do with the house but they're still valid complaints.
Complaining aside, I (as is Sam) am super stoked to move in to the new cabin. It's beautiful. And I'm really eager to get out of Crazytown. (pop. 1)
Sam has already packed one box of books. We are on our way.
It's getting cold here at night and darkness has returned with a vengeance. Winter is definitely on its way.
Since my digital camera got stolen (I also can't find my Ipod) I can't post a photo of the house. So here's an artist's rendition. Enjoy! Peace.