This last Saturday I helped some friends who were laying tile in their family room. And by “helped” I mean I demanded that they invite me over so I could learn how to do it, incessantly peppering their contractor-father with annoying questions.
Guys, aside from not yet seeing the finished project, working on someone else’s house is so much fun. You don’t have to feed anyone, or clean up afterward, or even be particularly useful. You can just whack your head on a granite countertop while vacuuming and hope no one notices.
I actually did that. I’m clumsy! Really, really clumsy. I often run into things or accidentally slam my hands into passing objects, but I just keep walking in the hope that no one notices. I forgot I’d even hit my head until later, when I got a really bad headache. I spent most of Sunday in bed while Greg, like a saint, ran to the store to get me saltines and Advil. I think I actually gave myself a bit of a concussion this time (fun fact: you’re not supposed to take ibuprofen if you have a concussion!).
I went to work the next day and I was really fatigued and my head really hurt and my coworker was like, “Why are you so dumb? Go home.” I took a monster nap and slept a full eight hours that night and the next day I felt like a new woman. I was so well rested! I was in love with the world!
And I wanted birdhouses.
I’m very much like a magpie–I see something shiny and I become totally focused on it. Because of this, I don’t let myself buy something on a whim. I have to go home, think about it, and make sure I really want it. And nine times out of ten, something new and shiny pops up to distract me. But I’ve been thinking about this photo that a friend LeAnn Locher took:
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