I’m like a squirrel. Or a butterfly. With a little Tasmanian devil on the side.
While I have not achieved all the goals I set at the end of Week 1, I have done LOTS of other stuff.
I’ve discovered that I need to strip all of the walls of plaster and lath and start with a blank slate, so my plans went out the door and whatever wall annoys me on a given day, that’s the one I tear into, starting with removing the trim, then scraping off the plaster and scooping it into plastic storage tubs.
It is nothing short of a crossfit workout, hauling all of the material down those stairs and out to the trailer to haul it all away. By the time I climb the stairs for the fourth tote of plaster, my quad muscles are screaming at me top stop, my lungs are burning, my arms are lead weights, yet I persist.
There’s no one cheering me on like there would be at the gym; only the voice in my head. On days when I am tired, I pretend that voice is the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket.
“WHY are YOU slowing DOWN?!?!?! Farmgirls don’t QUIT!!! Are you a QUITTER?!?!?!”
I’m just kidding. I don’t really do that, but it’s funny to imagine.
I DO spur myself on until the day’s labor is done, taking a minimal amount of breaks, because I view it as a good workout. I don’t want to rest because I know the activity is helping me get rid of my ‘winter layer’.
And I know I’m plugging my way slowly toward the turning point: bare studs, an apartment-style tabula rasa, the turning point where I get to start thinking about going the other direction, toward the finish line!
Right now as I progress to that turning point, ALL the ideas flood my brain as I work, and the ideas are like creative juice, fueling me further and pushing me to keep going.
See where I’m at on Week 4.
It’s a LOT of work.
It has been raining a lot again, and the new roof is leaking again over the bunk room, where kids stabbed holes in it as retribution for me busting them out for trespassing.
The water has not permanently damaged the floor, but we need to get it stopped so that I don’t have to hide those beautiful old hardwoods.
Stuff like this is frustrating, but I’ve been told that the problem with the kids has been dealt with and things are quieter around town. That’s a relief, as I spent a couple months last summer doing my own recon work to put an end to it, and it’s good to see it wasn’t time wasted. The little turds even spray painted grafiti inside the apartment letting me know I’m a “crazy b%&*h” for putting up cameras and busting them out.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the progress and really feel like I’m not just spinning my wheels, and that could get frustrating pretty quick, to the point of quitting.
But Farmgirls don’t quit.