I’m waiting for the painter to arrive to estimate a bathroom project that is long overdue. I took a swipe at the fixtures, countertop and mirror. I threw the bath mat into the washing machine. A bag of unused lotions and hair products is hidden in my bedroom until I can find a place to donate them to good use. After vacuuming and damp mopping the floor and fluffing up the room with (dried, from my own garden) flowers and a candle, the place doesn’t look half bad. Look closely enough though, it needs a good paint job immediately.
This is a good parallel to what has been generally going on in my little writer’s corner of the world lately. It takes awhile to overcome procrastination and make the changes. Half way through the process it is chaos. You feel dizzy and sweaty. After a bit of rest and nourishment you can go gangbusters at it and try to meet a deadline with your best shot. Second guessing yourself enters into everything. Worries about overextending your limits and resources surface. Then you try it and it either works or not. Somehow it is worth the try because oddly enough it makes you feel like a kid again.
However young it makes me feel I think it will be worth the splurge to pay the painter to do the job this time and less messy.