As some of you know, my husband, Buck and I have been ripping up carpet and laying vinyl plank flooring throughout the house. Thankfully we have a small house but it seems to be getting bigger and bigger. I guess that’s why it’s taking us so long to get finished. Not to mention that we don’t move as fast as we used to. https://sandistatondigitaldesigns.com/2019/05/24/golden-years-where-are-you/
Before we started this mammoth project back in May 2019, I had all my yard work done. No weeds. No honeysuckle chocking the Azaleas. No limbs all over the yard. Even the lawn was mowed.
Then we tore up the house.
Then it got hot. And humid. I don’t like hot and humid and sweat burning my eyes and the sun blistering my crepey skin. So I barely stuck my head out the door.
So while we were busy with the floors, mean, hateful weeds snuck into my flower beds and took over. Now they’re laughing at me and sticking out their tongues.
Then Buck forgot how to operate the lawnmower. And the weedeater.
And the grass began to grow.
Then arguments sprouted. Big fat, ugly arguments with tongues of raging fire and hearts of unbendable steel.
Then I wanted to move to the Netherlands.
Buck said he’d help me pack.
But, here it is, three months later and we’re still living under the same roof with the same number of teeth we started with. Together. With our two loving, nerve-wracking, confused mutts.
It was a beautiful, cool Spring and a joy to work in the yard.
My natural areas are happy, happy, happy.
Then we began tearing up the house.
All piled up and nowhere else to go.
Pulling up the carpet. Hubby has bad knees, so I get the honors. Getting up the carpet is the easiest part. It’s the padding and staples and carpet strips that’s tough.
Hubby doesn’t do Kilz.
This used to be our front porch
Subfloor crumbled to pieces. That was fun!
Water damage caused by the previous owners. I know, because she had a plant sitting there with nothing under it to catch the water when she watered it. So, the floor caught it.
Making some headway.
Finally! The living room, dining room, and kitchen are done except for the quarter round.
I’ve got my dining room back.
I’m liking it.
Even my ugly doll is happy!
At peace for a little while before we dig into the rest of the rooms.
It’s feeling more like home.
Now the den.
Almost ready to crawl on my knees again.
And now this!
And what is that?
Rose of Sharon that we did not plant!
Great! Another tree!
I don’t like you!
You’re killing me!
Why are you here?
I’m calling the cops!
Even the dogs won’t give me a break with all their digging!
Dead! Really, really DEAD!
I think I’ll use you in one of my creations.
Why won’t you just die?
I’m not complaining.
Well, maybe a little.
Okay, I’m complaining.
But I’ve learned something about myself during all this mess. Something that many people don’t like and has tried very hard over the years to destroy. Something for which I have felt guilty for possessing because it terrifies people and even myself at times.
And that something is inner strength. That strength that makes me get back up again no matter how many times I fall and feel like staying on the ground drowning in my tears. That strength that lets me know I’m still alive in spite of all the cuts and bruises of life.
Yes, I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve threatened to burn down the house, but I got over it.
So there you have a panoramic view of my crazy world. If you liked anything at all, please click that little LIKE button and post a comment. And thank you for stopping by. Next time I’ll bake a cake.
Published by Sandi Staton
So, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to describe myself to you, and these are the words jumping up and down in my heart: I'm just a simple human being living in a complicated, messed-up world. I speak my mind. I love hard. My feelings run deep. When push comes to shove, I stand my ground. Sometimes I push back. Sometimes I walk away. I've surfed the crashing waves of life that threatened to destroy me only to make me stronger. I bear the scars of emotional rape, sadness, and depression. I've walked the golden streets of churches and religion only to be disappointed time and time again. And as a result, it's taken me seventy-five years to get where I'm sitting today; a sinner saved by grace through the blood of Jesus Christ. I fell at the cross. I repented of my sins, and Jesus saved and washed me clean. I still fall flat on my face. I still get dirty as a pig in a mudhole. And Jesus still picks me up, dries my tears, forgives me again and again, and continues walking close beside me. No one has ever loved me like that. And no one ever will.
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