I haven’t really written about the #MeToo movement.

At least, I don’t think I have, not specifically at least. I could check but that’s boring and I don’t want to.

So, we’ll just assume I haven’t.

Not that it matters.

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So, I told Randy that I’m starting to get concerned that I’m going to go through paint withdrawal.

Randy: We have a 4 day weekend. Is this how you want to start it?

Me: I’m being serious.

Randy: I am also not kidding.

Me:…

Me: I’ve been painting walls for going on two years.

Randy: I am aware.

Me: I have probably two to three months left and that’s everything. Even the basement. Then no more painting.

Me: What am I going to do with my life?

Randy: You are not going to go through withdrawal.

Me: You don’t know. Painting is my life. I hate painting.

Me: Except I kind of love painting. I think it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to meditation.

Randy: You cheat at meditation.

Me: I cheat at Candyland.

Randy: There is that.

So, I am going to be finished painting soon. Soonish.

I love the results so far. I can’t wait to be finished. I’ll take a video when everything is done.

But then I’ll be finished.

I don’t even get that. I’ll be finished?

I’ve been bitching about painting walls for forever. It was over a year ago when I dumped a gallon of paint on the floor.

I am actually still traumatized by the spilled paint. Every time I open a bucket of paint, I am positive that it’s going to be seeping into the hardwood floors. Yet does that fear stop me from pulling a tarp with an open paint can on it? No. No it does not. 

I have furniture I want to paint. I have books I want to read.

I have writing I want to do.

You guys, I have completely abandoned all other writing. All of it.

Even when I spent months ignoring big projects, I still regularly submitted to other publications.

I have done nothing but write this blog for months now.

I feel antsy.

Maybe it’s good that I’m nearly done painting.

I have other things to do.

Photo courtesy of Sharon McCutcheon