Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Also, I See Fireworks Exploding And A Parade

Sure, I know what you're thinking. White stairs. They look clean but there are some weird nail holes and funky gaps that lend an unfinished look. The picture quality is nothing to get excited about either. Ho hum. *Yawn.* Not that interesting.

When I look at these stairs - my stairs - I might recall:
  • the years I spent living with ugly, worn-out carpets and no budget to replace them, 
  • the eighteen months I devised a plan to rip them out and paint the subfloors, 
  • the four months I waited for the right moment to strike, 
  • the twenty-eight days I have lived with an upside down house and a constant imperative to keep working, 
  • the many 12-hour days I've logged during those weeks with a sander, paintbrush, or dirty rag in my hand, sawdust in my hair and paint smears up to my elbows, or
  • the unknown but probably considerable number of hours left to finish up all the loose ends and give me a complete feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.
But I don't reminisce about any of those things. Tonight, as I look at my freshly sanded, paint-still-drying stairs, I think only one thought:


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