Saturday, February 23, 2013

this is killing me


I think my wife is trying to kill me.  I am being pushed and coerced into doing things I don’t want to do and am barely physically capable of doing.  No matter how often or how vehemently I refuse to do her bidding, she just pushes ahead with whatever plan has occurred to her and knows that somehow she will get me to do whatever she wants me to do.

For some reason she got it in her head that our bedroom needed redecorating.  I disagreed.  I pointed out to her that it has been good enough for the past thirty years, so why change now.  For some reason that argument didn’t sway her.  Every time she would bring up the subject I would pretend not to hear her.  But she is relentless when she locks onto a plan and sooner or later she will get her way.  It’s like you’re standing in the middle of the railroad track and you can hear that big old train coming and then it rounds the bend and you can see as well as hear that massive unstoppable monster bearing down on you but you just can’t seem to get off the track and that freight train smashes into you and overwhelms your resistance and you end up redecorating the damn bedroom.  

It’s been awhile since I’ve done any real work around here other than routine maintenance so I’d forgotten just how strenuous a simple job like removing wallpaper and painting the ceiling and walls can be.  Of course the wallpaper paste that is left behind when the paper comes off has to scrubbed off.  It’s never as easy as they want you think.  Lots of elbow grease and strained neck and shoulder muscles later the paper and paste were gone.  So was my ability to move in a recognizably human way.  Every thing hurt.  

My “normal” is PD slow.  My productive time each day is limited to 2-3 hours before I have to regroup.  But when I get into a project I like to work it and get it done, so I push myself beyond my limits and suffer for it.  She knows that’s what I will do and though she tells me to take it easy, what she really means is get back to work.  As this sort of project goes, it always turns into more than originally planned. So replacing the woodwork became part of the job.  Repairing the scars on the walls that the wallpaper had hidden was added to the mix. And then painting two coats on everything that got painted topped it off.  

All the time she was supervising my work on our bedroom she was plotting how to get me to do the same in the other two bedrooms.  Even though she could see how hard it was on this old body to the work, she figures I have at least one more project in me before I kick the paint bucket.  I adamantly refuse to do this again.  So she threatens to hire somebody to do the next bedroom.  She knows I have too much ego to allow anyone else to do work that I mentally can do even though physically it’s killing me. She knows which buttons to push to get me to do anything she wants.  All I can do is stand there in the middle of that train track and wait to run over again.

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