Gabba-gabba-hey
Margaret Murphy's is mostly painted. In all honesty, I've got round an hour and a half's worth of work left me. Last night, painting did occur till my poor wee corpus was cross-eyed and fit for the rubbish heap.
Ooh...there's a lovely ginger mog sneaking up on me. I'd say he's round two years of age. Now that the 'pub' is composed mostly of large windows (that we can remove in a flash - haha), I can see everything in my back garden. It's a bit like being outdoors with a roof on. :D
Since also we've now got the Best Fence Ever (seriously, within two days of it being all erected and done, a neighbour left a calling card to ask us about it), I've no worries of neighbours peering in at me and, well - you know - watching me dancing about as I'm painting.
I have, unfortunately, banjaxed my hands. It's bizarre; I can't have been gripping the brush quite that tightly, and yet... My hands are unruly (sure, they unlatch themselves at night and go scarpering through the neighbourhood tipping over wheelie bins), there's really almost nothing to them. I mean, I know there's really almost nothing to anybody's hands - I've been to BodyWorlds (which I think everybody should do) and I did especially look at the hands. At days like these, I think there's even less to mine. I'm crossing myself in hopes that I can make it through tomorrow's seisiun. :S
Ah well. The room needed to be painted, and I need to play (infer what you will, 'cos I ain't saying it outright). And speaking of painting, this last wee bit won't be painting itself, so it's back to the grind with me.
Ooh...there's a lovely ginger mog sneaking up on me. I'd say he's round two years of age. Now that the 'pub' is composed mostly of large windows (that we can remove in a flash - haha), I can see everything in my back garden. It's a bit like being outdoors with a roof on. :D
Since also we've now got the Best Fence Ever (seriously, within two days of it being all erected and done, a neighbour left a calling card to ask us about it), I've no worries of neighbours peering in at me and, well - you know - watching me dancing about as I'm painting.
I have, unfortunately, banjaxed my hands. It's bizarre; I can't have been gripping the brush quite that tightly, and yet... My hands are unruly (sure, they unlatch themselves at night and go scarpering through the neighbourhood tipping over wheelie bins), there's really almost nothing to them. I mean, I know there's really almost nothing to anybody's hands - I've been to BodyWorlds (which I think everybody should do) and I did especially look at the hands. At days like these, I think there's even less to mine. I'm crossing myself in hopes that I can make it through tomorrow's seisiun. :S
Ah well. The room needed to be painted, and I need to play (infer what you will, 'cos I ain't saying it outright). And speaking of painting, this last wee bit won't be painting itself, so it's back to the grind with me.