vituperation

I don’t think it would be possible for less to be going on in my life these days. It gets dark around 5:00, so no hiking after work. It’s been raining on the weekends, so I haven’t been out hiking then either (though I did have a nice one–albeit a little muddy–this past Sunday). Mostly I’m working and reading and watching TV, which pretty much gives me nothing to write about.

On the pill front, after I wrote my last entry it got worse. I suffered the dreaded “sexual side effect” the commercials mention. And believe me, “dreaded” is the right word. You work and work and work and work, sweating and straining and wondering if you’ll ever finish. The problem is compounded when your crippled shoulder forces you to stop and rest every couple of minutes. Instead of being pleasurable, sex becomes a sort of nightmare of pain and frustration.

(Side note to the spud, who’s probably running around in circles and screaming right now: remember, you asked me if you could read my site.)

Dr. Judy switched me to Lexapro, which doesn’t have me feeling muffled, just sleepy all the time. I figure I can alleviate that by taking it at night before bed. I won’t know more about how it does until it really gets into my system. Through my own stupidity, I managed to cut the Lexapro dosage to 1/4 the Paxil dosage, and found out in a couple of days that it wasn’t enough. Now I’m doing 1/2 the dosage I was taking of Paxil, and time will tell if it works or not.

Lesson learned: when they ask you what size pills you’re taking, don’t tell them a number that’s in your head. Check the bottle.

Lesson learned, part two: don’t then cut the new pills in half because you’ve decided you’re only a little bit crazy.

But enough about the pills, because pill talk is fucking boring.

It all started with the rotting window in the study upstairs. We had it replaced, along with the sill. The new sill was unpainted, and when the fix-it guy pulled off the duct tape I’d put round the rot to keep the ants out, paint on the sheetrock came off with it. No more rot and no more ants, but a big ugly place in the room.

“I should just paint the whole room,” I told Robyn. “It’ll give me something to do. Maybe a different color, because the whole house is the same old bone white.”

She agreed, and that weekend found me at Lowe’s, looking over paint chips. I picked a shade of blue, bought a gallon, and brought it home. I spent the Saturday repainting the study, sort of winging it since I’d never painted a room before. As it turns out, painting a room is pretty simple, and I was impressed with the job I’d done.

So I kept painting, a room each weekend, and so far I’ve done five rooms in the house. I guess I’ll keep going since the iron is still hot. There’s something to be said for painting a room. It’s so mindless you can think about anything you want. It reminds me of hiking, without the sweat.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can do a whole room, from taping to completion, in about four hours. If I knew it was this easy, I’d have done it a long time ago. I’m practically friends with all the people in the paint department at Lowe’s, and I can’t say enough good things about their Signature line of paint. It’s the top-end stuff, and only takes one coat to do a good job. If it’s easy enough for me, anyone should be able to do it.

For you, pictures of my handiwork:

The study, before I’d done the trim. You can see the bare wood on the windowsill.

The cat room. There’s a comforter under the blue one that better matches the paint.
The blue is there for the kitties to lay on.

The library / dining room, where I got all fancy with two colors.
The bottom color, despite looking black in the picture, is a very deep green.

The spud’s room (she chose the color, though it turned out to be the
same one I’d chosen without telling her), in a rare state of looking clean.

The master bedroom, in a color chosen by Robyn (which was also the one I’d
picked without telling her). I’m sure you’re surprised to find it’s yellow.

Who knew I’d have an eye for colors? I guess we can add “interior design” to the list of things that makes Fred look less than heterosexual.

PS: Christians, listen up. There’s no war on Christmas. Please take a pill and calm down. I recommend Xanax, as it works wonders.